Black Sails
by martykate
Summary: Catherine Flint, sister to Captain Flint of the Walrus, has arrived in Nassau after an absence of two years. Rumors abound-she was on the run for robbing a Spanish viceroy, she impersonated a French duchess and was caught-but no one knows. Now Captain Charles Vane is determined to take back the love of his life, but how? And will the old feelings for Eleanor stand in his way?
1. Black Sails--A Yellow Muslin Dress

**A Yellow Muslin Dress**

Vane reflects on his first meeting with a young Cathy Flint

Vane sat on the beach, smoking, trying not to think about his last quarrel with Eleanor. A thing that had started so admirably—how could it have gone wrong? Why all the fights lately? It wasn't because Eleanor wanted to get married; on the contrary, she had made it plain from the start that marriage was something unwanted and undesired.

Maybe his temper and his absences were finally getting to her. He shook his head, trying to shake it off. What he had with Eleanor was ending, though neither were ready and willing to concede it. A lover of long standing was different from a chance encounter. He admired Eleanor greatly, both for her brains and her beauty, but somehow it was no longer enough.

He looked idly through his spyglass to see the Walrus approaching. She'd weigh anchor soon, and her boats would put into shore. He wondered what kind of score she was bringing. The hauls had been bountiful lately, and crews of most ships were happy with the money they walked away with. It had been over a year since the British had come close to Nassau—what did they want with a lawless island full of pirates anyway? Why not leave them alone?

He watched as the Walrus hove to and the bow anchor splashed down. There was a bustling of activity on deck, and a boat being lowered, followed by a ladder. Flint was first down the rope ladder, then a figure disguised by a black cloak, followed by Gates and the bosun Billy Bones.

Vane snapped his spyglass shut. Odd that Flint or Gates weren't on deck, supervising the unloading. The Walrus was sitting low in the water, so there must be plenty of cargo in the hold. He opened the spyglass again and saw the activity on deck. Then looked down and saw the oarsmen pulling and aiming the boat towards the beach.

"What is more important than seeing to your score, Flint?" he asked, and took another look at the passengers in the boat. Whoever this mysterious passenger was, great care had been taken to obscure the view. Flint was in front, pointing out things, so whoever it was, the passenger must be a newcomer to Nassau. Gates and Billy Bones seemed to be sitting as sentries. They looked around as if they were confused themselves, and possibly thought the captain insane.

The boat reached shore, the oarsmen beached it on the crowded sand. Flint stepped out and carried the passenger to shore.

Now Vane understood. The mysterious passenger stood up straight and threw back her hood, revealing a cloud of dark auburn hair. In the light of the sun it shone like the finest mahogany, waxed to a perfect shine. She turned around and looked, then her eyes rested on him.

The loveliest woman he'd ever seen, by far, thought. Tall and slim—unfashionable but it suited her. The cloud of hair was loosely braided and held back with a yellow ribbon that matched the color of her muslin dress. She looked at him and smiled, her green eyes staring straight into his blue ones, unafraid. She tilted her chin as if asking a question she dared him to answer, but before he could, Flint took her by the waist.

"Stay away from my fucking sister, Vane. She's probably the only innocent left in Nassau, and I'd like her to stay that way." He had his hand on the hilts of his sword, but Vane ignored him. He was too busy looking at the vision in the yellow dress.

"I'll find you later," Vane promised her silently, then watched as Flint led her off. He had suddenly found the cure for Eleanor Guthrie. It wasn't a girl he met, but Fate. This was a girl like no other, and he was determined to possess her. "No one but mine," he thought, "That's what you are, no one but mine, I promise." Damn Flint, the girl looked old enough to know her own mind-if she wanted him, all she had to do was say so.

He saw the furtive look she cast at him, her eyes a silent plea. He nodded and she smiled. _Good enough._

"Do you know who that was?" Flint demanded. He'd not released her waist, but he was no longer hurrying her along. He stopped for a moment to interrogate her.

"Ah, let me see." She looked straight into Flint's eyes, not intimidated, "Couldn't have been Judas, he didn't have red hair. Couldn't have been the crown prince, he's back in London. Couldn't have been anyone of your crew, because they're back on the Walrus."

"That's Charles Vane," he said, exasperated, "That's the last person I want to see you mixed up with."

"Look big brother, this stops now. You agreed to get me away from England, I didn't run away so you could take control of my life. I'm going to need your help for a while but it's only temporary. And I know who Charles Vane is, and from what Gates told me, there's not a lot of difference between the two of you. You're both hard, cruel men and that's what makes you good pirate captains. But I didn't run away from a would-be master to acquire a new one. I came to Nassau knowing it was dangerous, but fore-warned is fore-armed. I made a choice to leave a comfortable life behind. Let me learn how to live it."

I'm not a child anymore, she was thinking, I put off marriage for as long as they'd let me and now I have a chance to be on my own. I've fewer scruples than you think, big brother. I stole all the money and jewels from the house before I ran, even though I was terrified they'd find out. I admit that I will need a little of your help. What I don't need is to be smothered.

For his part, Flint was surprised by what he was hearing. The letter she wrote him had been a cry for help. Now he saw an independent streak he had not expected. Bravo, he thought silently, though he had no intention of letting go his guardianship just yet. You've grown up behind my back, baby sister.

"All right, Cathy, have it your way, just permit me to help you settle in. I'm beginning to think you and Nassau are going to suit each other much better than I thought. I guess the sister I thought I had existed only in my mind."

Eleanor wiped the tears from her eyes and searched for the looking glass she kept hidden in her desk. Were her eyes as red as she thought? Charles Vane was certainly not worth her tears. What had he been anyway? Was he someone that she'd loved, or a mistake she'd made that she'd regret?

The final fight had come that morning, she couldn't even remember what it was about. He had been a part of her life for so long. She had been a girl when she met him, but had grown up and become a woman. If she'd become so wrapped up in him, she hadn't really been aware. She had never thought of herself as the dependent type, but maybe she had become dependent on him without really knowing.

In truth, she was confident and sure of herself. Her long golden hair reached almost to her waist, and was accentuated by the creamy color of her skin. She had dark blue eyes, a fine figure, and she'd received enough appreciative stares from men to know that she was beautiful.

She looked at the sad eyes that stared back at her in the mirror. She had learned she didn't need Charles Vane, but she'd grown so used to having him that the thought of his not being there was scared her a little. Now that she'd sent him away, she realized what she'd lost. Letting go had been the right thing. She was tired of petty jealousies, being ordered around, his hard hand, being taken for granted. In the end it had finally been enough.

There was a knock on the door, and Scott admitted Flint and a woman she'd never seen before.

"Eleanor," he said, a wide smile on his face, "This is my sister Catherine. I hope you can show her around and teach her the ways of the place. She's fresh from England, and knows nothing about the island."

"Of course, I'd be happy to." Eleanor was in shock, she had not known Flint had a sister, or that she was coming to Nassau, but she was simply not prepared for the woman who stood before her.

She'd never seen hair like that before, full and wispy, a shade of auburn that Titian would have loved. Unlike her brother, her eyes were a brilliant green, surrounded by black lashes. Her face was tanned gold from being on deck in the sun, but it suited her eyes and hair. Added to that her height and slender figure—this was a woman who would attract men without even trying.

She felt immediately jealous without even understanding why, but the girl was friendly enough, taking her hand and shaking it, thanking her for the promised help. Her smile seemed genuine, but Eleanor felt like the green eyes were reading her somehow, and she hoped she wasn't going to be found wanting.

Dinner at the inn. The night warm and humid, the scent of tropical flowers in the air, in addition to the smell of garbage, tar, and feces. Catherine had changed into a white dress, and put white hibiscus in her hair. To Flint she looked like something strange and exotic, not the sister he knew at all. Maybe Nassau was changing her, maybe it had changed all of them.

Richard had invited them to dinner. Like all the other men, Richard stared too hard at Catherine, but she seemed to ignore him. Eleanor was there, and the four of them ate and talked and were drinking too much rum, but it seemed to suit the night.

Catherine kept looking around, as if she were expecting someone, Then Flint realized just who it was when Vane wandered into the inn. He was about to rise and object when Catherine put her hand on his. To his dismay, he realized that he had been out flanked and out maneuvered. Charles Vane was going to come to the table, whether Flint willed it or not. Like a sea witch, like Calypso, Catherine had set her magic to work and charmed Vane into coming to her.

She smiled at him as he approached the table. When he grew near she said, "I'm Cathy Flint, I don't believe we've been introduced."

Eleanor could not believe what was happening. He took Catherine's hand in both of his, and kissed it, lingering over it, then moving his gaze up until his blue eyes met and held her green ones. He had not even stopped to stare at her décolletage, which was not his way.

"Charles Vane, of the Ranger. I am pleased to meet you, Cathy. Or is it Catherine?"

"Catherines aspire to sainthood, which I do not. Therefore it is Cathy."

"Since when are you a gentleman?" thought Eleanor, irritated, "Does she even know what you are?" But it seemed as if it didn't matter. For the two of them, they were the only people in the room. As she watched them, Eleanor realized how ill-suited she must seem now to Vane.

"Then Cathy it shall be. But where is your yellow dress?" He had not yet let go of her hand.

"I wanted to change," she said coquettishly, "But it is certain I will wear it again."

Eleanor wanted to scream. "Why doesn't he just take off her clothes and have her here? He looks like he wants to devour her. But she's a lady, not one of the tarts that inhabit this island. But maybe not so much of a lady, she's doing nothing to discourage him." There was something happening between the two of them that even Eleanor was aware of. Her time was over for good, Catherine Flint had been the final break between her and Vane, and Eleanor didn't know if she wanted to cry or rejoice.

"_Journeys end in lovers meeting"_


	2. Black Sails--The Reluctant Bride

**My timeline is all messed up again. Had I the sense to write this story in a linear manner, things would be as they should. As it stands now, however, I've written myself into a corner—I now have Cathy younger than Eleanor, which I should have done from the beginning, instead of older, as in my first story. I've got to stop watching pieces about "Black Sails" because it is totally fucking up my story trying to keep in line with it. Rats.**

**I have Richard Guthrie still in the picture. In the story, Guthrie has been gone for five years, I figured that he was still around, and he was enough of a reprobate to help Cathy out.**

**On a final note, I'm begging for reviews here. I seem to be getting lots of readers, and very welcome favorites and followings, but reviews would also be appreciated, if you feel so inclined, that is. I'm lousy when it comes to reviewing myself! (but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate getting them!)**

Flint had hidden his sister so well that Vane had not been able to find her. After the encounter in the inn, and he and Cathy displaying their attraction so obviously, this did not surprise him. Flint could not hide his sister forever, especially one as spirited and determined as Cathy. It was only a matter of time before Flint would find that his sister could not be restrained forever, but Charles Vane was tired of waiting.

There was no official declared feud between him and Flint, but the rivalry certainly was there. Vane thought Flint pretentious, his education and his manner of dress, suggesting the gentleman, indicated that he thought himself better than many of the pirates of Nassau. The facts were that they were probably equal in a fight and were superior earners, did nothing to quell the competition for superiority. And now Vane sought out Flint's sister, which Flint was having none of.

Eventually she would make her way to town. Fortunately he had a little time before he had to put to sea, so for now he could afford to wait. He wanted Cathy Flint and by God, he would have her. No one, especially Flint, was going to stand in his way. If he had to search the island, he would, but he hoped that she would come to him.

He waited for her on the beach, he waited outside Eleanor's offices. He stopped going to the brothels, surprising his men and Anne Bonny, but he didn't surprise Eleanor.

She knew where Cathy was. Part of her wanted to tell Vane so that he could fetch her, another part, perhaps stronger, enjoyed watching him suffer. It wasn't jealousy, exactly, for her relationship with Vane had run its course, it had more to do with not wanting to see an innocent girl go through what she had. Cathy was bold, but she was still an innocent, and did not what Charles truly was. No, Charles Vane would not be good for Cathy Flint, but she knew well there was little she could do about it.

One day Vane saw a girl in a flowered chintz dress wandering through the market. A parasol shaded her face, but the long red hair trailing down her back could belong to no one else. He followed her, listening as she spoke, now English, now French, with the mongers as they tried to attract buyers for their merchandise.

She had trouble making her French understood by the vendors who spoke only the Creole patois, but she'd throw her head back and laugh when she had trouble. Vane watched as they gave her gifts of slices of fruit and vegetables, or a skewer of meat. She'd accept the gift as if it were her just due, rewarding the giver with a smile, and continued idly strolling through the stands.

Vane, following surreptitiously behind, noticed her leave the market and walk down to the beach. She closed her parasol and making her way towards the water, and noticed that she swayed her hips gently as she walked. He longed to put his hands on those hips, and wondered what her tall, slim body would feel like in his arms.

Should he approach her or not, he thought, then made up his mind. He came up quietly to her side, and took her arm. "You should be careful, Miss Flint, there are some nasty characters lurking about. A girl like you might not be safe."

"And what exactly does a girl like me mean? Someone not from Nassau? Perhaps a girl like me is tired of being safe, Captain Vane, I have certainly been informed that you are not." She smiled at him, her eyes meeting his, challenging him.

She was bold, he liked that. "Where you are concerned, I am safer than most. If you wish to walk down the beach, I would be glad to escort you." He held out his arm—a thing he could not believe he was doing—and she took it. "And please call me Charles," he added.

"I am tired of being safe," she repeated, "I am tired of being smothered, tired of being treated like a child. My god, I ran away from my parents, and from an impending marriage because I was tired of my life being lived for me. I envied Flint when he was able to leave and join the navy. I saw my future being prepared for me and I wanted none of it. Now that I am free of that, I am never going to marry. I am going to leave my life as I want. What's wrong?" she asked, for she could see him smiling, amazed or amused she did not know.

"I don't know," he admitted, "You just don't seem like a girl who would run away to live among pirates on a lawless island.

"That's because you know nothing about me. My parents wanted to barter me off to any impoverished aristocrat who was hunting for a bride with a large dowry. I managed to put them off until I was seventeen, when another lord came calling, seeking my hand. You don't know what it's like to have to attend boring teas, parties, dinners, and balls full of tiresome people. No one ever asked me what I wanted. I don't care for society. I saw what my life was going to be, and something inside me said 'No'. So I took the address that Flint gave me, wrote him to come and get me, and I've never looked back. I want my life back."

Vane guided her a clearing at the edge of the jungle, and they sat down on the cool sand. "So, how does Nassau suit you, Miss Cathy?"

"Nassau would suit me find, if I was allowed to enjoy it. I do not enjoy the company of Mrs. Barlowe, I came to Nassau to escape the Mrs. Barlowes of this world. I have some money, and some jewelry to sell, and I could get by on my own for a while. I'm educated, and I'm not afraid to work, if I could find someone to give me a chance. And I want to eat dinner by myself, drink rum, and walk on the beach at sunset, and then go to my own room without being under someone's watchful eye."

Vane wanted to put his arm around her, tell her he would help her with anything she wanted. He wanted to kiss her and unlace her dress and have her right there on the sand. "But I can't," he told himself, "She's young, she's a virgin and I don't want to scare her. I need to take my time, I want her to be with me, willingly. I don't know what it is about her, but I know that she is meant to be with me. I don't want to frighten her, so as much as this pains me, I won't have her until I know she is ready."

"Cathy, if that is what you want, would you let me help you? I'll help you in any way that I can."

"If you truly want to help me, Charles, you could start by kissing me. I'm tired of waiting." She smiled at him, her eagerness in her eyes.

"You are a brazen little chit, aren't you?" He ran his fingers through her long red hair, then brought her to him, kissing her gently, then as his passion grew, so did the intensity of his kisses, and as his mouth sought her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, he pushed himself away.

"Not yet, Cathy," he told her, "We wait for this—and I've never waited for a woman in my life, believe me. I want you to make sure this is what you want. When you're ready," he touched her cheek gently, "I'll give you all you want and more, I promise. And we don't want your brother to suspect anything—yes." He kissed her mouth once again, hungrily, pulling away reluctantly, then stood up, and held his hand out to her.

He kept his distance as they walked back from the beach, wanting badly to sweep her away and take her to his tent. He had hurt her feelings, he could tell, but he would not give in to her, or himself. He kept looking at her, but she would not look him in the eyes. If she was angry now, it was all right. She did not realize just how much self-control he was exercising on her behalf.

He helped her up on her horse, then handed her the reins. "Cathy," he said, "Look at me." The look she cast him was not a friendly one. "The next time you come into town, talk to Eleanor. She may be able to help you, just don't tell her…"

"That you were involved? Why not?"

"A lot of reasons, but all you need know is that I'm not in her good graces. I'd rather she judge you for yourself, and Cathy," he paused, "I may be going to sea soon, it's time I was back on the hunt. Please be patient, I'll miss you and I'll come back when I can, but…"

"I know, you have a ship full of men depending on you. I have a pirate for a brother, remember? And I'll miss you, too. I'll try to come into town before you leave. I slipped the lease this once, now I know how to do it again."

He slapped the rump of her horse and sent her up the hill.

He did not see her for another week. He did not see her for a month. She occupied his every waking moment, even slipping in when he'd visit the brothel. He'd look every day for her horse, for a sight of a girl in a flowered chintz gown, who had red hair like polished mahogany, but to no avail.

The whores he sought did not soothe or sate him. If he held one in his arms he remembered the smell of clean skin scented with almond soap. Each time he took one, his mind was on a slim bodied girl with soft smooth skin. If it weren't for the physical need he had to fill, he'd quit the brothels altogether.

Why had he not taken her when she'd been so willing? Why was he suffering for doing the right thing once in his life? Why could he not get this girl who was so entirely unsuited to him out of his mind?

"Because you don't want to," he told himself. Flint was only going to win for a while. If Cathy would still have him, he was determined to have her. No more wasting time. He'd find a way to provide for her—somehow. She was the best thing ever to have happened to him—even though he had thought the same about Eleanor, he realized Cathy was different. He'd be putting to sea soon, but when he came back, he was going to change his tactics, Cathy Flint. He'd waited for too long.

In the end he delayed going to sea, but only as long as he dared. There were rumors of a merchant fleet sailing from the colonies which promised a financial rewarding prize for the lucky ship to catch them. Jack Rackham made the mistake of asking Vane if he was ready to stop acting like a cunt-struck bitch, and was rewarded with a broken nose for his trouble.

Going back to sea was his antidote for Cathy. Flint obviously had her confined, and unable to leave, he had faith that Cathy would figure a way around it. If not, he would send spies around the island and find out just where she was, and come and fetch her.

By coincidence, Flint was planning on sailing the same day. He had brought Cathy, along with the widow he lived with, to see him off. Cathy was dressed in one of her London dresses, complete with corset and hoops, and carefully arranged hair covered by a stylish hat. Her green and white silk dress made her seem older, more sophisticated, more like someone he'd imagined in a drawing room in London. She looked at him, her eyes sending him a message. "When I come back," he wanted to tell her, "Things will be different. Be patient, I will come for you, I promise.

Perhaps Cathy, or his restraint, brought him luck. He was on the hunt for just three months and managed to bag two rich merchantmen who were headed to Florida, with holds full of tobacco, silks, fine Mexican cotton, and barrels of rum. He headed back to Nassau to sell his goods, and pay the men. Even Jack Rackham seemed satisfied with their haul. So were the men, though once the goods were exchanged for coin it would be a short time before their pockets were once again empty and they would be ready to go to sea again.

And facing Eleanor was inevitable. She was the only merchant available in Nassau to exchange his goods, unless he wanted to deal in Port Royal. The arrival of Cathy had signaled the final end of their relationship, and he had seen hurt looks on her face that he could not avoid. The competition with Flint had now been complicated by the presence of his sister, and he did not want that to stand in the way of his dealings with Eleanor. Business was business, he reminded himself. As long as he agreed to keep his men's behavior in check, maybe things with Eleanor could be harmonious enough.

When the jollyboat touched the shore, he looked around for a glimpse of Cathy. Flint was unloading, too, but he saw no sign of either Mrs. Barlowe or Cathy. He sighed, he was determined to seek her out, but for right now he had business to attend to.

He threaded his way through the boats and people sitting on the beach and headed to Eleanor's. To his delight he saw a familiar figure sitting at the bottom of the steps that led to Eleanor's office. She was dressed simply in a striped skirt and white blouse, her long hair carefully braided and tied with cord. On her wrist was a silver cuff bracelet, which he recognized as one he had given Eleanor long ago.

She saw him, ran, and threw herself in her arms. He lifted her up and tucked her legs around his waist, and for some reason could not seem to stop kissing her. Then they both started laughing, and he set her down. Looking up, he saw Eleanor smiling. He hoped that meant if she'd been angry he was now forgiven. If she had taken Cathy under her wing, that was a good sign. And was Flint aware of what had befallen his younger sister?

"Cathy, why are you here? What has happened?" Vane looked into her eager, smiling face—it was plain she longed to tell him.

"I went to Eleanor, just as you said. I told her about my education, what I could do, that I was willing to work hard to prove myself to her. And that I wanted to get away from my brother, that the life I was leading was as stifling as my life in London—minus the unpleasant prospect of a forced marriage. Richard Guthrie decided to give me a chance, and I must not have disappointed. I work with him and Eleanor now. They've given me a room for a pittance, and with what they pay me, and the money and jewelry I took from home, I'm safe from Mrs. Barlowe and my brother. I'm my own person, and free—at last."

Vane was about to reply when he heard a familiar, and unfriendly, voice shout out his name.

"Vane", Flint's face was redder than his beard, "Get away from my damn sister." His hand was on the hilts of his cutlass, he clearly meant business.

Vane tried to drew his weapon, trying to shove Cathy behind him. He had no idea that she'd slipped his dagger from its sheath, only that she was being uncooperative, and insisted on standing in front of him.

"Your damn sister doesn't want anything to do with you, brother." Vane admired her fearlessness, but he didn't want it to get either of them killed. "I told you," Cathy continued, "That I didn't intend to live under your thumb, that's why I escaped England. I've had enough of being kept prisoner by you and your whore. The two of you can go to hell. If you want children, have them, but you've mistaken me for one of them, and I'm not."

The Flint temper evidently ran in the family, Vane decided. For once he had the cooler head. "Cathy, get behind me," he whispered, "And for God's sake, don't argue. Run up to Eleanor and stay with her. I can handle your brother, believe me." But he still didn't notice his dagger was gone, Cathy noted with satisfaction.

Eleanor held out her arms and Cathy ran to her. They held onto each other as the best fighters in the West Indies began to battle over a slim, red headed girl. Swords were drawn and the opponents looked each other in the eye, waiting to see who would strike first blow.

"Don't worry," Eleanor whispered in her ear, "If Flint kills Vane, I think he has a pretty good idea what will happen—you'll refuse to have anything to do with him for a long time and he doesn't want that. If Vane kills Flint, he'll feel guilty because he killed your brother, and he doesn't want that on his head. Flint knows you've declared your independence, and he won't be able to take you back. Charles' fight is to show Flint that you're with him now, and there's nothing to be done about it. They have to do this so they each can save face. Patience now Cathy, it will be over soon."

To Cathy it didn't seem that way. The fighting had begun in earnest. Two opponents, both deadly with a sword, were going all out to prove that they were the better. Sunlight flashed on the blades, sparks flew, and the clanging on the blades grew louder. At one point Vane switched his sword hand and struck Flint in the face with his fist. Flint was only momentarily startled and came back with a vengeance, but Vane had gained the upper hand and knocked Flint's sword out of his hand.

The weapon lay just out of reach. Flint stretched out his hand to grab it, but a foot was pressing down on the blade. He looked up and saw his sister, a dagger in her hand that she got from somewhere, pointing it straight at him. For a moment, he wondered where she got the knife.

"It's over, brother, time to make your peace with letting me go. Your Mrs. Barlowe will be as glad to be free of me as I'm glad to be free of her. Even if you'd managed to kill him I would not have gone back with you anyway." She stepped off his sword and handed Vane's dagger back.

Flint nodded, "All right, Cathy, have it your way. But you're making a mistake, you'll see."

"Ah, but it's my mistake to make. You've certainly made enough of yours, haven't you?" She went over to Vane and put her arms around his waist. He looked at Flint, his looking plainly saying, "let her go".

"Come on Flint," said Eleanor, "We have business to discuss," and he followed her into her office.

Eleanor cast one last dirty look at Vane, and he and Cathy laughed. "I have business, too, and you might pretend that you have work to do. I'll find you just before sunset, and if you don't see me, wait for me, I'll be right here."

_Sunset._

They walked on the beach, their arms around each other. She broke from him briefly to wade in the water, looking at the colors of the sunset reflected in the ocean. She danced around on the sand, then came back to him, laughing.

The sky darkened and they felt alone and safe. His tent stood ahead of them, and for a moment he hesitated, but she pulled him towards it. "Now?" she whispered, and he answered by scooping her up in his arms, and carried her into his tent.

"Now," he answered and started to kiss her.


	3. The King

Francoise Mortemart looked around him, wondering why he had bothered to come to this party. He usually eschewed the usually boring public balls in favor of these small, darker parties, but this one was disappointing him. His friend Eugene had tempted him into coming, "I promise you, mon ami, it will be worth your coming. I have something that will both surprise and delight you." Well, so far neither surprise nor delight had materialized.

Suddenly the sound of laughter. A light, yet throaty laugh, the laugh of a female who genuinely meant it. He'd like to hear her laugh again, the noise tickled his ear delightfully.

He looked across the room to see her standing there. She stood out from the other women in the room, taller, slimmer, and her hair was its natural dark auburn color, not powdered grey white as was the fashion. Her dress, too, set her apart in its stylish simplicity. The silk was woven with a mossy green and bronze colored stripes, over a bronze silk petticoat. She did not rely on an excess of lace and ribbons, and decoration, the elegance of the dress was in its cut and simplicity. The neckline was as low as any other in the room, and revealed a generous expanse of golden-skinned breasts.

She was talking to two young dandies, laughing at their jokes as though she found them hilarious. She spoke an excellent, though accented French, and in that rich voice the accent was charming. The domino she wore disguised her eyes, but she had a tempting full lipped mouth that was devoid of all but a little rouge.

The dandies were kissing her hand, bidding her a regretful farewell. She nodded her head, gave them a dazzling smile. She watched them go, then looked about the room, observing what, he did not know, but if he left her alone for too long, someone was sure to be there, ruining his chances.

He grabbed two glasses of champagne, and went over to her. "Madam…"

"Mademoiselle," she corrected.

"Mademoiselle. It is warm in here, and I was afraid you might be thirsty." He handed her a glass of champagne and was awarded with a glorious smile. Close up, she was even more beautiful than he'd expected. She wore a floral fragrance he could not place that reminded him of the nights he'd spent in the tropical ports. Jasmine, that was it, night blooming jasmine.

"Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Francoise Mortemart, Captain Mortemart of the King's Privateers. He hoped he impressed her, he was usually successful with the ladies. He was of above average height, well built (well, his middle had grown a little thick since he had not been at sea for a while), and his fair good looks with the blond hair and blue eyes usually drew women to him.

"The King's Privateers? Really. I had heard that Louis XIV had drained France's coffers and that your king was rather lacking in ready cash. Tell me, have your efforts been successful?"

He hadn't even gotten her name and now she was quizzing him. But she cast him an innocent smile, as if to show that she was teasing—only he wasn't sure if she was. France was in a dire state financially, and her king showed every inclination of following in his grandfather's footsteps, it was likely that France was going to suffer financially for years to come.

"Mademoiselle, please forgive me, I do not believe you have given me your name." He gave her the smile that had won so many hearts, "Such a beautiful young woman must certainly have a name that matches her beauty!"

She laughed. "If God is good to me, I will spend the rest of my days surrounded only by Frenchmen! My name is Catherine. At home they call me Cathy, but that does not sit so well on French tongues. So call me Catherine, I don't mind." She swept him a deep curtsy and smiled.

"La Belle Catherine." He took her hand and kissed it. She was finding him thoroughly charming, charming enough to drive the image of Charles Vane out of her mind for the moment, who had seemed to haunt her since she left Nassau. He was looking into her eyes, "I'm devilishly charming," his look said, "you don't wish to resist me, now do you?" Devilishly charming was just what she needed at the moment. Devilishly charming was the exact opposite of Charles Vane.

She held up her glass. "Our host has provided the most excellent of champagne." She tipped her glass upside down, "Is it possible that I could have more?"

He signaled the servant. "Eugene always has the best of everything, that is why his parties are the most popular in Paris." He took two glasses off a silver tray. "He will be glad to hear that you are enjoying yourself."

She drank half then glass, then paused. "You are a privateer for the crown, yes? Where exactly are you plying your trade?"

"Well, the Carolinas in the New World have not proved very profitable. We have taken to raiding Spanish galleons when we can. When we are successful it is very profitable. The West Indies are proving to be fertile hunting ground."

"Tell me," she said slowly, "Do you every put in to Nassau?"

"Yes, sometimes, especially to re-fit and supply. Why?"

"I live in Nassau. I've lived there since I was seventeen. I just wonder if I've seen your ship. It's mostly the pirates who come into port and sell their booty, but some privateers do come and sell their goods to the, ah, agents. Nassau does seem to attract all sorts, but I've come to love it, the good and the bad. I'll pass through England on my way home, but I am not returning there to live, ever."

"Well, cherie," it was the first time he used the endearment, "I don't blame you. The English are bores and their food is dreadful. Not to mention the fact that they are devoid of manners."

"And they don't know enough to keep a woman's secrets, as a Frenchman might?" She smiled at him playfully.

"Well, cherie, do you have any secrets that I should keep? I promise, as a good Frenchman, I would not reveal them."

"Yes, but none that I would care to tell. I keep my secrets to assure my safety." She clinked her glass against his, the crystal ringing sweetly.

"Tell me one secret," he begged, "I would have one that I would keep for you, on my word."

She drew back from him, "All right, here is a harmless one. For several years I have been the paramour of one of the worst pirates in the Caribbean. In fact, he is the reason I left Nassau—I had no other way of getting free of him. I was young and foolish when I met him, and I don't know if he became love or habit. I have been hiding from him in Europe, but I am homesick I am going back. I only hope that he has found someone else and forgotten me. I am afraid that I am foolish enough that I might take him back. And I think I need more champagne, all this talking is making me terribly thirsty, only I do not want to get too drunk."

"Shall we adjourn then to somewhere else?" Francoise was determined that Catherine should not escape him. It was all too likely that she would disappear like something in a fairy tale. As big as Paris was, the social circles were small. He probably knew something about every person in the room. The party had promised to be boring until he laid eyes on Catherine. Now he had found an exquisite new toy that he wished to keep from anyone else. If only he could convince her to leave with him.

She looked at him, sizing up the situation, making up her mind. "I am afraid, Monsieur de Mortemart, that may not be possible. I have only known you a short time, and I fear you seek to bed me. Which would not be the worst idea, but I do not know if that is what I want right now. I know I do not need to fear that you seek something from me that I am unwilling to give. In fact, I think a dalliance with you would probably be delightful, I just do not know if I am in the mood tonight." And I don't know if you are what you say you are, she thought.

He took her hand and kissed it, his blue eyes staring straight into hers. "Does that mean, cherie, that I may hope that we will have that dalliance soon?"

"Yes, very soon, I only wish to beg off for tonight." I may have questions to ask you, and sex would only get in the way.

"Well then," he said gallantly, "May I summon your carriage for you?"

"Alas, I do not have one. My stop in Paris has only been for a few months duration. I must return to Nassau before the storms begin and the voyage becomes too hazardous."

"In that case, cherie, I insist that I take you home in my carriage. No Frenchman would do less." He added, and thought to himself, there is more to this girl than meets the eye. I have never met anyone so coy and open at the same time.

"Oh," he said suddenly, "Before I do so." He removed her mask, revealing an exquisitely lovely face. He took that face in his hands, and kissed the tempting lips. "I must have you, cherie, if not tonight, then soon."

She laid a slender hand against his cheek. "I have told you that you may, have I not? And I am a woman of my word. I want you, too. I need something to remember when I sail back to Nassau. You would be a most pleasant memory to keep."

He had the footman summon his carriage. He put her black velvet cape over her shoulders and helped her into the carriage, then followed. As the carriage took off he placed himself close to her, then started to kiss her neck and her shoulders. Encouraged by her response, he found her mouth, then moved to his hands to her back to undo her laces.

"No," she said and started to struggle, but he only laughed. Then she switched tactics, murmuring endearments, not fighting him, and he let her go, thinking she had given in to his demands.

Until he felt the stiletto at his throat. "Did I not say, cher, that I was not in the mood tonight? Please don't make me use this, you really are too delicious a man for me to want to hurt you." She shrank back on the seat, holding her dagger to that he could see it in plain view, tapping it against her hand.

He decided it would not be a good idea to try to take it from her. What had she said, that her former paramour was one of the most notorious pirates in the Caribbean? He had had women object to his advances before, but none had pulled a knife on him.

She lifted the hem of her skirt, and slid the knife back into the scabbard fastened onto her calf. "I so hoped I would not have to resort to this," she said.

"Well," he said, "Would you be amenable to dinner tomorrow night? You did say that it was this night that you were not in the mood?"

She took hold of him and pressed her lips onto his, kissing him slowly and deliciously, "I will be in the mood tomorrow, I can assure you. Just. Be. Patient."

"Mademoiselle, I do not see how that will be possible, but I shall try." He let her off at her hotel, and watched as she disappeared inside. "Tomorrow night then, cherie, but I will make you pay for making me wait. I cannot wait to see if you are that same delicious golden color all over."

_A half a world away_…

Vane had been drinking rum and throwing rocks at seabirds. He was at that stage of drunk where an attempt at conversation could result in a fight and the crew conscientiously avoided him.

Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny had been watching him the whole time. He would scoop up a pebble from the beach, wait for a target to appear, then aim the missile, sometimes having success, sometimes not. One victim had died, a few others had been crippled, but most recovered after a few minutes, then taken to the air.

"Have you heard anything about her, Jack?" Vane demanded, "What about Flint's spies? Has he located her? Where the hell is she? "

Rackham had hoped that a successful re-uniting with Eleanor would solve the problem of Cathy Flint, but it was not to be. The pairing with Eleanor had its obvious advantages, but the problem now was that Vane was still in love with Cathy, even after a two years' absence. Jack Rackham was sure that Cathy Flint would return to Nassau, in the meantime he had the unenviable task of trying to keep his captain calm.

"Flint believes that she may try to seek out her parents before she returns to Nassau. She is now past age of consent, she may try to make her peace with them. It is almost certain that she will come back here. She's managed to elude the Spanish all this time. Flint's spy in England has had people looking for her. They think she may be in Paris now. She'll be back while sailing is possible. She wouldn't try to return home if there was the danger of a storm."

Vane shook his head, and Jack and Anne walked off. "It would be advantageous for him to remain with Eleanor Guthrie. We would reap all sorts of benefits from that alliance, and he knows it. Instead, he's pining like a schoolboy over a wench that left him two years ago, how can he know she'll even want him back if she does return?"

"Because he's in love with her, you fool," Anne thought, "The man is lovesick, he wants her back. He didn't appreciate her while he had her, and now he's blaming himself and rightfully so. The alliance between Vane and Eleanor won't last because they don't love each other. He's in love with Cathy Flint, and I'll wager she's still in love, too. There were never two people more crazy for each other."

_Back on the other side of the world._

Cathy stood, examining herself in the mirror. She had chosen her rose pink gown, her most seductive. The sleeves were daringly short, and the décolletage was much lower than decency allowed. She'd pinned up her hair on the back of her head, a few strands hanging seductively down her bare back.

She felt like a victim preparing herself for sacrifice, but it was all good. She'd made a promise, and had made up her mind to enjoy herself. Mortemart was handsome, smart, and as a privateer, she felt herself in familiar territory. And from the way he kissed, the young captain might possibly know his way around a woman's body. There had been no lover since Venice, and she was in the mood to let herself be ravished. Of course no one but Charles…

Don't even think it, she told herself severely, you told yourself that you would erase him from your mind. Not think about him again, ever. But that wasn't the case.

Each time she'd taken a lover, she had closed her eyes and pretended it was Charles making love to her. She had tried without success to stop it, but wasn't able. She was returning to Nassau because she missed him so much it hurt. Charles had taught her how to love. He had taken a scared but eager virgin and turned her into a woman. No matter how bad things might get, they had managed to keep their love alive. No two people burned for each other the way they did. Well, not quite true, she reminded herself, after the last disastrous quarrel she hadn't been able to escape him quickly enough.

But now she missed him. She'd use the good captain to help her get passage across the channel. She'd make a token visit to her parents, then hurry back to Nassau.

And Charles Vane.


	4. Chapter 1

Gates and Flint watched as the brigantine hove to, close enough to read the letters that spelt "The Walrus" in plain view. "Ahoy," someone from the big brig shouted, and they watched as a jollyboat was lowered, and a figure in a black cloak was making his way carefully down a rope ladder into the boat.

"Captain, he looks like a merchantman, why the hell would he be taking the chance to come so close? And look, there's another boat holding a trunk and a chest if I'm not mistaken. Now who the hell would take the risk of hailing us? They're a sitting duck, if you ask me."

Flint turned to him, a broad grin on his bearded face. "Who indeed, Gates, if not my sister Catherine. That wench could charm the devil himself into giving her a lift. Give the men the order to bring her aboard. Damn their superstitions, they're are going to have to live with a woman on ship for a while."

He watched as the boats came to the side of his ship, and a rope ladder and cargo net fell down the side. Catherine smiled up at him as she deftly mounted the ladder, holding on to her portmanteau. She could still climb like a monkey, he thought, he wondered idly if she still knew her knots, or if the rigging would intimidate her. Not likely, Catherine was afraid of nothing.

He helped her on board, only slightly embarrassed as she threw her arms around him hugging him tightly. He held her at arm's length, "Let me have a look at you, Miss Catherine," then pulled her close and kissed the top of her auburn curls.

The men in the jollyboats were still waiting. "Flint," she said, "I told them that you'd give them safe passage in exchange for taking care of me. You're not going to make a liar out of me, now are you?"

He threw a small bag of coins to one of the boatmen and raised his hand. "Tell your captain thanks for taking care of my sister. And unless he's a privateer, it's best that he avoids these waters in the future, for gentlemen of fortune make their way here. You've brought me my dearest treasure and I thank you." The boatmen lowered their heads and turned the boats around and made their way back to the merchantmen as quickly as their arms could pull. Their encounter with Flint would make its way into legend, and in the future, their captain would avoid the Caribbean at all costs.

Flint wished he could wipe off the ridiculous smile that must be on his face. He put his arms around Catherine's shoulders and introduced her to his crew. "My sister, Catherine Fiona Flint. Anyone who does not treat her with respect and courtesy will find themselves making a quick trip to Davy Jones' locker. There's to be extra rations of grog tonight in celebration."

"That's enough staring, get back to work," roared Gates, knowing the men's concern, "No excuse for standing about idly. The master's not giving you extra grog for idleness. Now, off with ye."

"Thank you Gates," Catherine breathed, "To a man they looked like they wanted to throw me over the side, captain's sister or no. If it wasn't for…"

He put his arms around her shoulder. "There, there, Miss Cathy, I know. You're well versed in the ways of the sea, but you're brave enough to venture out upon her all the same. I know Flint is glad to see you, I've not seen him smile like that in ages. I'll put your things in his cabin, and you'll not need to worry about them." She smiled that winsome smile that he'd first seen on her arrival in Nassau. Then she'd been all red curls and brown eyes, fearful yet curious about the circus that was Nassau, Bahamas. Now she was grown up and self-assured, but the smile had not changed.

She also still knew sailors. She looked around, seeing the furtive stares. Not curiosity, but open hostility if she met their glance. "Damn sailors," she thought, then said out loud, "Buy a girl a drink big brother?" Lord knew that she could use it.

He took the hint and picked up her portmanteau. "Come on," he said, and made his way into his cabin. He settled her into a comfortable chair, then pulled a bottle of rum out his desk. He took two glasses from a cupboard and poured generous portions into each.

She drank deeply, savoring the flavor. "Ah, good old Cuban rum. I'd sworn I'd never again drink it in my life. I never thought I'd ever say this, but I'm tired of fine wines, and brandies, and champagne. I want to eat some good Creole cooking, and go to sleep in a bed and not worry that I'm going to hear pounding on my door."

"A little bird told me you were on the run from the Cuban authorities. Something about some treasure stolen from the Cuban viceroy." He raised his eyebrows, eager to hear her reply.

"Some treasure he intended to give to the pope. Much more than he needed. I personally gave him a lovely crucifix of gold and emeralds, and a rosary of the same. Gave me a lovely little gold medal engraved with his name and face. It was so easy to get an audience when I showed the officials what I intended to give him. Gave me his blessing for my journey and everything. Almost enough to make me want to go back to the Church—almost." She smiled at him.

"Well, my little caper sent me on quite a journey. I caught the first ship leaving Havana Harbor and headed to Italy. I banked some of my loot in Genoa, then took some to a bank in Zurich. It's funny how if you have enough money, they don't care what you want to deposit." She took another drink then looked at her glass thoughtfully.

"Oh, almost forgot. I brought you this from France." She pulled out a bottle from her portmanteau and handed it to him. "The finest brandy in France. I went there after I left Zurich. I settled in Paris for a few months and had a new wardrobe made—Pa was always too cheap to buy anything not English, remember? I caught a ship from Calais to London, then from London I headed to Martinique. When I saw the Walrus I asked to captain to please take me to her. A handful of gold coins and a promise of safe passage convinced him to do it. So here I am. Hopefully you are headed to Nassau, because after all the fun I've had, staying on shipboard would be tremendously boring."

Flint scratched his head. "I wonder how you do this. This is the second time you narrowly escaped being caught by the Spanish. I know men who have not had half the luck you do, but aren't nearly as foolhardy. But yes, to answer your question. We're a day away from Nassau and I plan on putting into port for a while. Will that suit your ladyship?"

"Quite," she said haughtily, "And if you are short of cash, big brother, I can help you out, only don't tell anyone but Gates. I'm more than set up for life with what I have with me, and I could help you out, too. I'd like to find someplace to settle where the Spanish can't find me, only it's not going to be Europe. Maybe Italy, but I'd rather not. The Indies suit me just fine. I'd never be happy in England. Too cold and grey. And the Seychelles are out—I don't know any of the pirates there, so I'd best stick close to home. As long as home won't send me to a Spanish prison."

"Well, New Orleans might work, if the French take it back. Port Royal perhaps, but after that earthquake, that's a place I'd avoid. I don't think Martinique would be exciting enough for you, and now you'll have to avoid Havana."

"A change of subject: When were you going to tell me who's in port?"

Aha, he thought, now we come to it. "Well, Teach hasn't been around for quite a while, but your old friend Charles Vane and the Ranger are there."

"Vane doesn't concern me. Wasn't he skirting after young Eleanor McGrath? I'm probably too old for him." Too old was five years, Flint mused, and grinned at her.

"Vane was a mistake, Flint. Half the time we were trying to kill each other. The first time he hit me, he learned I wouldn't put up with it, but that didn't stop him. He liked it when I fought him, it aroused him, made him hard. A pistol was the only thing that could make him see reason."

"But you put up with it for…" he interjected, but she interrupted.

"Too long. Too damn long. Okay, I desire the man, but I hate him. If Eleanor's in his clutches I feel sorry for her, but she's old enough to take care of herself. I want a man who isn't go to hang or die a gruesome death. Vane's going to swing, it's inevitable, he's practically asking to." She held up her hand, "I don't want a man who'll bore me, thanks to you. I may just settle in Rio and learn Portuguese and party until I'm too old. Maybe there is no man for me, so I'm free to do just as I like." She leaned forward, "Now, are you going to let me climb the rigging and help work the sails?"

The Walrus was due back any day. Charles Vane, captain of the Ranger, had a lot of questions for Flint regarding the proposed raid of the Spanish treasure galleon. Eleanor had suggested that he might ask Flint if he would need help, which was not unlikely. The Spanish would have plenty of guns and cannons, and would be more than Flint might be able to handle on his own. And it was not recommended that he be captured by the Spanish.

He thought about the rumors he had heard of Flint's sister. She had disappeared from Nassau only to wind up in Havana. How hard had it been for her to seduce the Spanish viceroy and get her hands on his treasure? Catherine was smart and clever as well as beautiful. Catherine had left him—admit it, you drove her off, he told himself—leaving him heartbroken, until he noticed that little Eleanor McGrath had grown up.

When had he decided that he was attracted only to beautiful, intelligent women who were far above him? He had seen Eleanor's blond loveliness without seeing that beneath that lay a steely ambition. When her father disappeared she had taken over his business and ran it far better than he had. She was clever, shrewd, and he had underestimated her as he had Catherine. When she, too, had left him, he swore that he would nothing to do with these self-assured women and sought the company of the wenches in the tavern. But settling for brass coins after possessing gold sovereigns had proved unsatisfactory.

He noticed a ship had appeared on the horizon, headed for Nassau. He grabbed the spyglass of the man standing next to him and recognized the sleek lines of the Walrus. Flint stood on the bridge with Gates, along with someone he didn't recognize. At the pace she was traveling, she'd be dropping anchor in the harbor soon. He sighed and, uncharacteristically for him, handed the man back his spyglass. He headed to a waterfront inn to drink until he had changed his mood—if not to fair, then to foul.

When he emerged from the tavern, the Walrus' jollyboats were being rowed to shore. Flint sat in the prow, with someone behind him that Vane could not see, then Gates and Billy Bones sitting behind. The oar men beached the boat and Flynn swept the mysterious passenger into his arms and carried her to shore, setting her on dry sand.

A woman, tall and straight, swept the hood of her cloak back from her head and turned around. Vane found himself staring straight into the green eyes of Catherine Flint.

_Son of a bitch._


	5. Chapter 2

"Son of a bitch," he breathed. She was more beautiful than he remembered. "Hello Cathy," he said, wondering where he found his voice because he found himself falling into the deep wells of her green eyes.

"Hello Charles," she answered, her voice soft and breathy. He had gotten to her, her eyes could barely meet his.

Flint took no chances, he tightened the grip he had on her waist. "Come on, Cathy," he said impatiently, "Eleanor is waiting. I told her I'd see her as soon as I got into port; we need to find a place for you to stay." He jerked his head at the men carrying her chest and trunk, and they headed towards the staircase that led up to Eleanor's offices.

Vane watched Cathy cast one last helpless glance over her shoulder as Flint half led, half dragged her towards the Eleanor's office. He suddenly realized that his hands were shaking, and crossed his arms across his chest, hoping that no one had noticed.

He knew that his presence would not be welcome, so he paid a young boy to follow Flint and his men, and discover where she was lodged. Find that out, and find out more, he told him, and he'd triple what the urchin held in his grubby hand. He watched as the lad took off after Flint's party-the boy was smart and would tell him what he needed. Tonight he was going to sleep in Cathy's bed and remind her what the two of them could be.

"Cathy!" Eleanor jumped up, and ran to her, putting her arms around her. She kissed her, saying, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I was sure the Spanish were going to find you. Oh, I'm so glad you've come back to Nassau—you've no idea."

And Cathy didn't, but she suspected something. Eleanor was evidently free of Charles Vane, but something else seemed to be on the mind of her young friend. Never mind that, she told herself, Eleanor will confide in you if she wishes to.

"Yes, we all know how our young Catherine takes foolish chances but somehow manages to emerge unscathed. A quality many of us would wish to possess." Vane stood in the doorway, arms akimbo, having been too impatient to wait for the boy, he decided to invite himself to the party. Flint stood up to show that his company was not only unnecessary, but unwanted. Eleanor leaned over the table to show that she was serious.

Cathy alone knew how to deal with it. She would sacrifice herself to Vane, maybe allowing herself to have a little fun in the process. "Charles, if you go away for now, I promise to take you with me to my rooms." She could hardly imagine how she'd manage to avoid it, anyway, "Please go for right now, there are arrangements I need to make with Eleanor that have nothing to do with you. Wait, do whatever, just leave me alone for right now—please? And don't listen while we discuss business."

"Of course not," he objected, "What do you take me for?"

"Exactly what you are," she retorted, "Jealous. I'm not even yours, and you're already jealous."

You'll be mine soon enough, Cathy Flint, he thought, the sooner you learn it the better. But he bowed and left Eleanor's office, and found a place to wait for the urchin to find out where Cathy would be lodging. Soon enough he'd have that discussion with Flint on how they would raid the treasure galleon.

"You don't have to do this," Eleanor said as she watched him leave, and Flint interjected,

"He best not lay a hand on you or I'll slice his…"

Cathy lay her hand on his brown one. "Flint, if you wanted me to fuck him, or anyone, you'd be insisting. It's not like I haven't done this before, or given in to him when I haven't wanted to. I just wanted him out of here while we discuss my personal business. I've got a chest that needs to be secured in a place where I can get to it when I need to. I don't trust leaving it in a room, or on the Walrus. I need to have it hidden in a safe place, but since I don't want to carry around a lot of money, I need to be able to access it, or have you access it for me, Eleanor. Can you do that?"

Eleanor had heard this request before. She salaamed, "Your wish is my command, my lady. I have a place for, uh, _special_ cargo. It's well guarded and when you need access, you just let me know. And I wouldn't mind a peek, if you didn't mind. Maybe now, before I put it away."

Cathy smiled, and snapped her fingers. The crewmen brought the chest to her, then left the room, locking the door behind them. She pulled a key out of her portmanteau, and leaned over the chest and released the locks. The hinges squeaked as she opened the lid, revealing the treasure hidden within.

Eleanor and Flint inhaled simultaneously. Inside the chest was a king's ransom in gold and jewels. Pearls as big as pigeons' eggs dangled from intricately fashioned gold chains. A crucifix encrusted with diamonds and rubies lay tumbled with gold and emerald pendants. More Rubies and emeralds lay atop a nest of hundreds of gold coins of all denominations.

Eleanor picked up a gold and pearl necklace and held it against her bodice. "I could never afford something like this, not in a million years." She put the necklace back in the chest. "I'll take extra care with this. It would never be safe on your ship, Flint."

Flint was examining the coins, running them through his fingers. "I'll wager some of this is pirate's loot. There's too many different coins, and no ingots stamped with the symbol of Spain."

"I dumped the ingots, left them behind. Except for the design of some of the jewelry, there's nothing here that links the loot to Spain. I think this tribute was supposed to be a way of showing that Spain was going to be able to keep the passage to Europe free of pirates, and open to trade. The viceroy was a liar, of course. He certainly couldn't keep it away from me, or keep me from transporting around the Atlantic."

"I'd like to sell some of the jewelry, but I don't think I'll find any buyers here. Maybe I'll go back to Venice and Genoa, but I just got home and I don't feel inclined at the moment. As long as I can store this stuff safely, I can wait as long I like."

She pulled out the necklace that Eleanor had admired. "Here," she said, handing it to her, "It's probably not safe to wear it now, but you can save it for someday." She closed the lid of the chest and locked it securely. "So here we have it, a king's ransom. If not, it's close. I'm set for the rest of my life and can even help friends. Now all that remains is to lock it up somewhere safe, so I don't have to think about it more than once a day.

"I have a place," said Eleanor, "Don't you worry. All we need to do is limit the number of people who know about it. By the way, does…"

"Vane? Oh, I don't plan on telling him, but there are probably people already talking about it, so it's probably no secret that I've brought treasure into Nassau. There's so many stories that I hope facts get lost. I'm tired, I want to go to my room. I've been on the run for two years now, I think I deserve some rest."

Eleanor opened the door, coming face to face with Charles Vane. He held keys in his hand, and two men stood behind him.

"I have your room keys, my men will move your trunk. I think it's time you got some rest, Cathy," he said meaningfully.

She shrugged her shoulders. It seems that there was one more thing she'd intended to tell Eleanor and Flint, but right now she couldn't remember. Flint took her in his arms and held her tightly, then looking up at Vane, he said, "If you harm even the smallest hair on her head, you're a dead man, there won't be any saving you for the hangman's noose."

Vane nodded—Flint was serious. He snapped his fingers and his men picked up her trunk. "We'll see you for dinner, then, we need to talk." He took Cathy's hand and led her to a room that faced the ocean, away from the noise of the town.

The men followed with the trunk and left it in the room. "Tell Jack I'm to be left alone a few days. If he needs me, he can send Anne Bonney, and it's only if there's an emergency. Otherwise, you don't know where I am or who I'm with, understand?"

They left, shutting the door quickly behind them. Cathy burst into peals of laughter. "What's the matter, Vane, are you afraid they're going to walk in on us while we're fucking? Wouldn't be the first time, now would it?"

He picked her up by the waist and spun her around. Then he took a handful of her hair and pulled her closer to him, surprising her by the gentleness of his first kiss. Their kisses grew hungrier and deeper and he unlaced her bodice so his hands could find her breasts. She looked at him for a moment, then gently pushed him away and removed her gown. She started undoing the buttons of his shirt, saying, "I want to remember how you feel." After that there was no opportunities for words.

What felt like minutes, but was actually hours, later he woke to find her with a basin and ewer, washing. "What are you doing?" he demanded and she answered,

"Now, what does it look like? Seems like you ought to do a little of it yourself. No more nooky for a while, I want my dinner and I want to talk to my brother. If you intend to hang around me all the time you should bring some clean clothes. I'm very big on washing, remember?"

He smiled, knowing better to say anything, and took the bath sheet and bar of almond soap and began to clean himself. He watched her slip a pale blue silk sack gown over her head, the gold threads shimmering in the material. She picked up her silver backed brush and began to untangle her auburn curls, her eyes never leaving his as she brushed her long hair.

Bathed and dressed, they wandered down to the inn where Eleanor and Flint awaited them.

Cathy's return had brought back bad memories for both Flint and Eleanor. His sister had disappeared from Nassau without a word. He had searched frantically for her for days, until Eleanor had word that Cathy had boarded a ship bound for Cuba. What she was doing, he did not know, until rumors had reached him that she was on the run from the Spanish.

Soon after Cathy's departure, Vane had taken notice of Eleanor. She had been repulsed, and flattered, and had given in to a man she knew was no good for her. His skills as a lover had overcome her dislike of him, and finally knew why Cathy had stayed with him for so long. Eventually, she realized why Cathy had left, and had sent Vane packing. Things were uneasy between the two of them, and she hoped that with Cathy's return she could come to an a sort of truce with him—and be left alone.

They came in, hand in hand, and for once Vane looked truly happy. "He treats her differently than he treated me," Eleanor thought somewhat resentfully. Cathy was older, and more experienced than she. She wondered if Cathy truly knew what she was doing now.

They sat down at the bar and Flint shoved a half-eaten chicken and a loaf of bread at them. "We didn't want to wait for you," he said, which Cathy seemed to find funny. There was little conversation as she and Vane ate, but at last she asked Eleanor, "Is there someplace private where we can talk."

Eleanor nodded, "Come up to my rooms," she said swept up the bottle of rum from which she and Flint had been drinking. They followed her up the convoluted stairs that led to her rooms at the top of the building. She gathered four glasses, and poured some rum into each. "What's on your mind, Cathy?"

"Flint, Vane, do you really intend to go after the Herca de Lima?" She received no answer so she assumed that they did.

"The Spanish never send their treasure galleons out unescorted, you know. And even though the Spanish government is bankrupt, that doesn't mean that it won't be guarded."

"They send out two treasure ships at a time, with a flotilla. They'll split the fleet and meet up in Havana. You'll have to attack before they hit blue water. Teach* is the only one I know who's successfully chased the Spanish away from their salvage operation and robbed the treasure."

"You don't have enough men, you don't have enough guns. I saw a treasure flotilla when I was in Havana, and it practically filled the harbor. The galleons are top heavy from all the cannon, even though there's tons of treasure in the hold. If you think that the two of you can take her on your own, you're crazy. If you try to enlist another ship, you're crazy because the more people involved in this, the more loose lips are about. When it comes to gold fever, people just can't keep from talking. And if the Spanish hear even the tiniest word about a coming raid on their flotilla, they'll either cancel this year, or go after who they think is responsible."

"It's easy for you to say 'don't do it', Cathy, because you're set now. Vane and I need this ship. If we can pull this off, my days as a pirate are over. There'll be enough left after I pay off bribes and my men that I can leave this life behind. I need this galleon." Flint sat back, feeling he had made his point.

"You, Charles, I know the life you're living suits you fine, but do you want to be captured by the Spanish? Or maybe the English if they're hunting Spanish prey? All I can say is you better find out more than a list and times, you better find out what you'll be up against. I don't want to see either of you hang or watch either of you die. You go after a Spaniard, you made damn sure you're prepared. And I may just find myself leaving Nassau and heading back to Italy, because I think what you're doing is insanity. Your only hope will be if the ship is blown off course and separated from the flotilla."

"You sound so sure, Cathy, is it really that bad?" Eleanor, at first in favor of the plan was starting to have doubts.

"The only way they'll succeed is if the Spanish are using a merchantman and they can get it away from the fleet. The moment they see you, they'll be on you. I'd offer to go to Lima and spy, but I don't dare step on any Spanish soil now. The secret lies in knowing what the escort will be like. The Spanish don't like to leave their treasure ships unguarded, and no Spanish captain takes the chance. Vane, Flint, please don't do anything foolhardy, at least while I stay in Nassau. You drive me crazy, but I love the both of you. And I still mean it: I won't stay to watch you hang or watch you die. It would break my heart."


	6. Chapter 3

Cathy looked helplessly from one to the other. "You don't even hear me, I'm talking to myself. All right, Flint, I'll help but don't make the mistake of thinking I'll outfit you, either of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a walk. I don't feel like looking at either of you." She opened the door and slammed it behind her."

"Well, Vane, don't just sit there, go after her." Flint waved an impatient hand at him.

Vane slipped out of Eleanor's room and ran after Catherine. "Oh, no, Cathy," he told her, "You're not walking the streets of Nassau alone." He tried to put an arm around her but she shook him off. Exasperated, he followed after her.

Finally she turned around. "I want to go to our beach and build a fire. Are you coming or not?" She did not wait for an answer, but kept on walking. He followed, trying to gauge her mood. He wanted to take her back to her room, but she was not in a compliant mood. When she was like this, it was no good trying to thwart her. Their private beach was not far, and if lighting a fire and swimming would calm her down, then humoring her would do no harm.

Since she would not walk with him, he kept her just ahead of him. He had no gun or cutlass on him, only his dagger, but that would have to do. Was it only the news of Flint's plans to attack a treasure ship that had her so upset? Flint tried to keep her from Nassau's gossip, but what might she have heard? She and Vane tended to keep their own council, she never questioned him unless she felt she had reason. She had learned to ignore the gossip, but sometimes rumors troubled even him.

She turned off on the path that led to their little beach. They had discovered it in the early days when he had been pursuing her. Little surprises made her happy, he'd discovered, and when she'd expressed a wish for a place where she could swim and lay in the sun, he had been happy to oblige. Before she had left him, it had become a place where she would escape to after they'd quarreled. Now he hoped that she could calm down and tell him what was really wrong.

She stood at the edge of the water and kicked off her slippers, then pulled off her dress in one move. She didn't wait for him to follow her but waded into the phosphorescent waters until they covered her shoulders. Under the light of the full moon she swam a ways out into the bay, only reluctantly coming back to shore when he insisted.

He picked up her dress and slippers, tossing them away from the water. When she came close enough he waded out and lifted her, carrying her to shore. She fought him, struggled to get away, but he was too strong. No use to fight him as he pulled off his clothes. He took what he wanted from her as he had so many times before. And she wondered again why she stood for it, why she always came back. She'd gone half a world away and still had come back—to him.

When he had enough of her, when he was sated, he pulled her close to him, smelling the salt water on her skin. She was pale, though in a few weeks her skin would be kissed with gold. When he kissed her, she didn't object or pull away, just as he knew she wouldn't.

"Tell me *Ondine," he said, using one of his pet names for her, "What did you mean when you told Flint you'd help him?"

"I thought that story was out, now. About my robbing the viceroy in Cuba of his intended tribute to the Pope. I have enough money to help him, though I won't fill in all the gaps. If you intend to do something so foolhardy as invade a Spanish fleet, you better have enough money for powder and shot."

"Ah, so the story is true. When did you do it, just after you left me? After you broke my heart?" He was hoping for a reaction, an apology, but got none.

"I was beginning to doubt that you had one. I left you, and my brother, and caught a schooner to Cuba. I made some friends and from them I heard about the viceroy sending a tribute to Rome. It wasn't all that hard to steal it, the Spaniards aren't so smart as they think-that's why the only trade they have is in silver and gold. I skipped town the night I did it and had myself smuggled onto a Genovese ship and sailed out of Havana with the treasure."

"I'm helping Flint because God knows I owe him. He got me out of England and helped me avoid a marriage I did not want. I'll owe him for that forever. Helping him with this will make us square."

"And what about what you owe me? Skipping town without a word. Flint wasn't the only one trying to find you. I finally heard that you were in Europe, I thought I'd never see you again. I stayed angry for a long time." He covered her body with his, "I kept thinking about all the men you could be with, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got."

"Did you possibly think I left because I was tired of us? The fights. You hitting me because you could. You forcing me if I wasn't willing. I was tired of all of that."

The old words, the old reasons. He would have to tread carefully this time to make sure he didn't lose her. "I have a habit of not being good to you sometimes," he admitted, "But I've always loved you, even when I knew I wasn't enough."

"Do you want to show me how much you love me? Then kill Rackham, or better still, let me have the pleasure. He's trouble, him and that slut Anne Bonney. Calico Jack has outlived his usefulness, you could find a better quartermaster. He cost you your good terms with Eleanor, he's trying to replace you as captain. You should trust him less, much less."

Vane got up and pulled on his clothes and picked up her dress. "We've got to go. Time for you to get some rest if you want to help me find a way to get rid of Jack Rackham. Plenty of time tomorrow for us to figure out if your brother has all that he needs to raid a treasure galleon. I would have left port, but now that you're here I feel like I need to keep an eye on you. No more slipping out of town, Cathy, you don't go anywhere alone from now on."

"If I'm to have a duenna, I'd rather it be you. Then again, I need to get away from you sometimes. I'm going to ask you once, then I'll never ask you again: do you love me, Vane?"

He dropped her dress over her head, brushing off the sand. "Would I go through all this trouble if I didn't?"

"I want to swim." She pulled off her dress and ran back into the water. She turned and held out her hand. "Come on, just a little one."

"What the hell." He stripped off his clothes and ran into the water after her and they swam out into the bay, stopping and treading water to kiss, to look at the moon. "If I asked you a favor, would you do it, even if I might not be able to return it until after we capture the galleon?"

"Confident, aren't you? Let's go back to the beach and you can ask, and then I'll say if I will." She hated to leave the water, but she followed him back.

"How much money do you have Cathy?" She looked at him, knowing it would come to this.

"Enough. Enough to help my brother, and depending on what you want, perhaps enough to help you. How much?

"Five thousand Spanish pesos. And then a thousand to help someone get off the island and start a new life. Can you do it?"

"You mean, would I? Does any of this affect you?"

He put his hand on her thigh. "Indirectly yes. Calico Jack would be in debt to you, and I'll give you the pleasure of trying to make him pay. But, it's for the benefit of a young Creole girl, a friend of Eleanor's, who has suffered very badly because she was greedy and naïve—and in love with Eleanor. I don't even know if she'll take it. We need the money back in our store. I was a fool to listen to Jack. Now I'm out of Eleanor's favor—she's only tolerating me because of you. I know you don't believe me, but I have my reasons for to helping the girl—and I want to get her out of my life. Maybe if she hears from Eleanor that the money came from you…"

"And since it wasn't my money to begin with, I'm trying to earn my grace by helping someone in need." She smiled at him, then gently touched his face. "Ouch, maybe need to shave a little someday. Don't tell me the whole story, one of the reasons it was good to leave this island was because of all the drama here. Do I know the girl?"

"I don't think so. Maybe, but maybe not." He paused for a moment, considering. "Why did you come back, Cathy? You were safer in Europe."

"I came back because I missed my brother. And because I couldn't live with the fact that I ran away from you. I could not live with feeling like a coward. I'm back because I love you. I realized that I could take you on your terms, as long as I imposed some of mine. We work, Vane, I don't know how but we do."

He draped her dress over her, got dressed. "You've always known where I stood. We won't end happily, but before we do, I'll see you off safely to Italy. You know how to take care of yourself. You're a better judge of character than I'll ever be—oh, I know all about the machinations of Mr. Jack Rackham. Will it make you feel better if I tell you he's terrified of you, because you're the one person he can't manipulate or fool?"

They began to walk back to her rooms. "He should be afraid of me. If he tries anything, Flint's wrath will be on his head. I've tried so hard to stay out of your affairs, and here I am, back in the middle of them again. Thank god being Flint's sister seems to be a magic talisman.

"Don't forget me," he reminded her. "Between Flint and me, you're protected. There's women on this island who aren't so lucky."

"Yes, and you both like to remind me. Maybe you should sleep in your tent tonight. I don't feel so friendly right now."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, and that was the last word.

Vane woke the next morning to an empty bed. He called her, but she did not answer. He found her on the veranda pouring water a pitcher of water through her hair.

"That damn salt, I'm trying to rinse it out of my hair. Help?"

"You could have waited," he said, but patiently took the pitcher from her. "There," he said, "Hand me the bath sheet and let me dry it."

"I'm going to talk to Eleanor this morning, and have her get me your five thousand pesos. You owe me a big favor for this—preferably Jack Rackham's head on a silver platter. Let me have Anne Bonney's, too, and you'll get extra one thousand for yourself as a bonus."

Vane laughed, "Can't spare them right now, Salome. Now's not the time to be adding new hands to the crew."

"Pity," she answered and let him pull her to him, "I was hoping you'd play Herod for me. Are you going to fetch that little Creole to show good faith?"

He threw her over his shoulder. "I guess you know better than to trust me, though I hope it will come with time. Get the money and I can get the girl. And I know you'll want to be with me when I bring the money on board. I'm looking forward to Jack's reaction to whatever you do."

Eleanor's eyes were round as saucers. "Oh, Cathy, you can't be serious. You wouldn't do that for him, would you?" She said with consternation.

"I can afford it, Ellie, and that will take care of the debt the little Creole owes him. I can save her from being sold into slavery, and I can save her from the crew. She made a foolish choice, but I can save her from it. And I can help Vane buy back into his ship. He's the only one who should be in command if they go through with this raid. There's no other on board the Ranger who's capable. I look forward to seeing Calico Jack's face when Vane brings the five thousand pesos on board, and when he learns he's in debt to me. As Flint's sister, I'm buying currency on that ship." Her smile was nothing like her usual charming one.

"What?" Max was astounded, "No, I won't take no money from no one. I did this to masef, and I be the one who pays the price.

Flint grabbed the front of her dress. "Look you little fool. We need money for this raid coming up. I'll sell you to a rice plantation in South Carolina, and you can spend the rest of your life as a slave. Maybe I'll give you to Eleanor and let her do with you what she wants. You cost me five thousand pesos and Eleanor's favor, and I need it back. Be a good girl, not a fool, you'll wind up with a little money, enough for you to take care of yourself for a while, if you're careful. But don't cross me, you owe your fortune to Cathy Flint."

"Ooohh, she took you back." Flint said nothing. "Okay, I do it. I want me life back. Maybe I go away and not come back. Maybe I talk her into leaving too." She dodged his hand and cowered in a corner until she knew he was gone.


	7. Chapter 4

I keep finding that I want my story to mesh with the tv series, which was not my original intention, but the story is so rich that following along with it is irresistible.

Apologies offered if needed. I may delete this later and replace it with something more original

Later…

Eleanor was sitting along in her office. Cathy came in and sat down, contemplating what to say.

"Eleanor, where's my brother? I've looked for him, and I don't know where he is. He's not on the Walrus, they haven't seen him in the cathouses, and I can't find him anywhere. I asked Gates, but he's not being helpful, Billy Bones is saying nothing, either. He can't have left the island, he has to be here. I don't know where he's gone, so you're my last hope. Where is my brother? Do you know?"

Eleanor exhaled slowly. She didn't know what to tell her. Her father was still recovering, Flint had not come into town, so that left only the possibility that he was with Miranda Barlowe. Her dilemma: should she tell Cathy where her brother was, or leave her ignorant?

"Eleanor, you know, don't you?" Cathy pleaded. "I can read you like I can read my brother and Vane. Please, just tell me where he is—he had no business to take off and leave me, whether I was with Vane or not." She put her hand on Eleanor's arm, "Please?"

"I know where he is. I'm going out there tomorrow, I'll take you with me. I'll have your money, too. I don't know if Vane wants to get it back into the ship's store right away, but if he does, I'll wait for you. Just don't tell Charles where we went. My father's there, too. There's a woman Flint's staying with, I don't know who she is, I only know her name. I think she should know about you, whether Flint has told her or not."

"What is my brother up to now? These no good pirates—damn all of them. I think my brother is a madman, sometimes I'm sure of it. I could have had a nice quiet life back in England with a husband I hated, but that wasn't for me. Sometimes I wish that Nassau would sink into the Caribbean."

"Quiet? Quiet would be boring, even for you. Good afternoon, Eleanor. When will you be giving Cathy her money?" Vane had come into the room, put his arm around Cathy's shoulders and kissed her. He enjoyed the look of discomfort on Eleanor's face, and kept his arm around Cathy.

"You mean the money she's giving you to get back the Ranger. The money for the pearls you should not have given to Jack Rackham. I'll have it in the morning, as soon as I get in my office. I'll get your money, then put the rest back in storage. Good luck retrieving it from Jack Rackham." She sat back in her chair, wondering at how he could still get to her sometimes.

"I'd settle for them leaving Nassau." Cathy had stayed out of their exchange, but wondered if there was more to it than what appeared on the surface. "I'd send him and Anne Bonney to hell if I could, I'd be content banishing them from Nassau. I'd like to see that they couldn't get aboard any other ship, and would have to depart here for good. Let Jack Rackham be someone else's problem—if another ship would have him."

"I doubt that." Eleanor didn't like Jack Rackham any more than her. Scott had reminded her to be cautious of all the men that they dealt with, but Rackham's shifting loyalties made him more unpredictable and more dangerous. She was under no illusion that Vane was more trustworthy now that Cathy was back, but he seemed to take more care when he was with her. At least in public.

Cathy had a quality Eleanor admired greatly: patience. It enabled her to spend weeks, even months stalking the Cuban loot. She would spend as much time as she needed to learn what she needed to know, cultivate friends, and spy out the land before she struck. Once, when drunk, Flint had confided that his sister would be one of the greatest pirates in the West Indies, only there was no crew who would understand how she worked, even if her methods brought results. Cathy's success lay in her ability to operate in the shadows. Flint and Vane preferred a quick, open fight.

"Come, Cathy," Vane spoke in directives, "Eleanor, we'll see your tomorrow morning. The sooner this is over with, the better. I want my ship back. We'll get your little Creole out of Nassau for her safety—that's my gift. Persuade her to leave, she won't be safe here."

Cathy rose and gave Eleanor the slightest of nods. "Yes, I'll meet you," it said. It was time that Flint saw his sister, anyway. She was curious as to how her father would react when he saw that Cathy was back. She doubted Cathy would use him as a fence anymore, but might consent to use one of his contacts to sell her jewelry—unless she intended to sell it in Europe. Interesting to see what Vane would have to say about that.

Since Cathy came back, Eleanor was starting to feel some of the old yearnings for Vane. This was a different Charles Vane than the one she'd known. He was protective of Cathy in a way he hadn't been of her. The way he touched her, would stroke her hair, the way he almost seemed to hover over her, as if he would keep other men away. He was almost, "husbandly", she cringed, which was definitely not in Vane's character. And Cathy in turn seemed wifely. There seemed to be a bond between them that was untouchable.

She was sure that the old Vane was there, the one who would be abusive, cheat, and intimidate, but it did not seem to touch Cathy. "I'll be she gives as good as she gets," Eleanor thought, "She wasn't afraid to leave him, or to come back after all this time. What is wrong with you anyway, Eleanor. You were glad to get rid of him, remember?" She was behaving like a jealous ex-lover, and that was not her. She was happy that Cathy made him happy, better Cathy than her, after all. Let Cathy deal with the problem that was Charles Vane.

There were wandering down the street arm in arm looking for someplace to eat. He had the look on his face that he got when he was thinking, and Cathy wanted to know what that was. She employed an old technique, one that would either break his train of thought or let her know what was on his mind. If she were to escape his company and go with Eleanor to see her brother, she needed to know his plans.

She looked up at him, a mock serious look on her face. "You look like you're thinking, Vane, that could be dangerous." She looked up at him roguishly, and he began to roar with laughter.

He swatted her playfully but painfully on her thigh. "Behave yourself," and squeezed her shoulders.

"Well, I was wondering," she said, deliberately casually, "If you were going to be busy this afternoon." She gave him her most innocent look, and lifted her eyebrows, indicating that she'd like an answer.

"Well, yes I will. I need to meet with some of men and see how the mood is on ship. I'd like to talk to Gates and tell him what I'd like to do, find out how much he knows and enlighten him. He's a good man, but I'm the one who should be in command of the Ranger. I like him enough that I don't want to take it away from him, but I'd like to have it returned to me. And I'd like to keep him on board—he has a good way with the men."

"I think Flint needs him. I know my brother, he's just as likely as you to go off, and then do something stupid." She looked at him, seeing the dark look he was giving her, "Don't look at me like that, you know yourself well enough to know that's exactly what you do sometimes. Gates can keep my brother in check—unlike fucking Jack Rackham who has no sense at all."

"We're back to him, eh? Speaking of Jack, what time would you like to confront him tomorrow?"

"Well, when you return the money tomorrow, it should go directly into ship's stores. On shore someone is either going to use it, lose it, or spend it for themselves. Where are him and the slut sleeping? On ship? On shore? I want the money on the ship, so when would be best to bring us all together?"

"Slow down, Cathy, I'm of the same mind you are. I plan on using you as the surprise they don't expect. Gossip is spreading about you and your money, so when they see you with me they'll think I have access to unlimited funds…"

"Which you don't," she pointed out.

"Yes, but they don't know that. If they knew you, they'd know better. And if you can kill Jack you have my blessing, but think about your safety, first. There will be better places to get him than on my ship. There may be crew members, he may make sure there are crew members there who support him. Do you even know how to fight?"

"Flint taught me some, enough to defend myself, he said. I badgered Gates into teaching me how to use a knife, and how to use a sword if I had to, but it seems that between him and my brother, nobody wanted to teach me much. I can hit my target when I throw a knife. I can fend someone off with a sword, but that's about it. I've learned to depend on my two feet—I can run fast enough to get away from trouble, if there's someplace I can run to."

"And you can swim. There, let's eat at that old woman's place. I know you like the food. And just stick close to me tomorrow. Defend yourself if you have to, but don't look for trouble. And if something happens to me, get off the ship, don't wait around."

Luck was with her. Vane had hurried through lunch and left. When he was out of sight, Cathy ran to where Eleanor was waiting with horses."

Eleanor handed the reins of one to Cathy. "I wasn't sure if you were going to be able to make it. Charles doesn't seem to let you out of his sight."

"It better not come to that," Cathy answered, "He's unusually jealous and possessive since I came back. That's not like him at all, I wonder what changed."

Both women mounted their horses. "Maybe it's because you came back," said Eleanor, "He's different with you than he was with me. More possessive, maybe, I don't know. You seem to occupy a different place in his life than I did. I don't really know, but if I were you, I'd be careful."

"Oh, believe me, I am. Which way, Eleanor?" She followed Eleanor up the hill and they had a good gallop as they hit a level spot. They slowed and then talked quietly between themselves as their horses went at a walk.

"Tell me about this woman you say Flint's living with. Where did she come from?

"I don't know anything," Cathy answered. "I know she took my father in at his request, but other than that? I don't know. Something does not feel right, but I can't put my finger on it. My father's been no help. He's always liked you, so I thought maybe if you were there he'd open up. Maybe if you can intercede for me. I'm in his daughter, why doesn't he want to help me?"

"Flint's my brother, what is he doing hiding from me? We come from a good family, we have nothing to be ashamed of, except what we've become. "

"I think he may be trying for respectability," Eleanor said thoughtfully, "This woman looks like she was a planter's wife, maybe a widow now, unless…"

"Unless my brother helped to widow her at her request. Who is he trying to fool? I may be with a man who cares nothing for being respectable, but neither he nor I pretend to be what we're not. Unless Flint can get a King's Pardon, he's an outlaw, plain and simple. Maybe this woman is attracted to that—and the money my brother stands to make if his plans come to fruition. And what kind of brother neglects his little sister, especially when her lover is Charles Vane? I just came to Nassau and he's already disappeared. I want my brother back."

"I don't know, but we're here. Let me warn you, she acts and dresses like a lady. She may try to hide behind that. Anything you can guess about her, let me know, let father know. I'm afraid of what Flint is up to—he needs to concentrate on the coming raid."

Cathy dismounted, and tied her horse's reins. "I intend to do just that, Eleanor. Come on, let's do this."

Cathy did not like her. She wore a fashionably cut dress of unbleached muslin, and a housewife's cap on her head, such as the wealthy wore. Her smooth-skinned oval face, brown hair and brown eyes revealed nothing. "I can't read you," Cathy thought, "There's something about you I don't like, but I can't it figure out."

'I'm Miranda Barlowe. I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sure that whoever you brother is, he wouldn't be here."

"I'm good at lying," thought Cathy, "And I can spot a liar when I hear one."

At that moment, Richard Guthrie came wandering out. "Catherine" he said delightedly, "My dearest girl-how lovely to see you." He took her hand and kissed it, giving her the smile she'd always detested and didn't trust. You say you came looking for your brother?" He cast a glance at Miranda, "Well, I'm sure he's here, possibly upstairs. Is there anything I can help you with my dear?"

"Possibly later, but not now." She turned to Miranda. "I want to see my brother. Where is he?"

"What can all this fuss possibly be about, Catherine?" Flint came walking down the stairs, "Is anything wrong that you couldn't have taken care of yourself?"

"I haven't even been back two days and you disappear. And what is Richard Guthrie doing here? And who is this woman named Miranda Barlowe?" She pointed at her, but the smooth face revealed no emotions. "Why are you here and not in town?"

"Cathy, Gates is there if you need him. You have Charles Vane to take care of you, provided he doesn't take to beating you again, in which case you only need tell Gates, or Billy Bones. I'll come into town when I'm needed." He seemed to think the matter was settled and went back up the stairs.

She started after him, Richard Guthrie took her arm. "It's better to leave him, Catherine." Then he whispered in her ear, "I need to leave this place, but not yet. I don't think this woman is what she appears to be." Then he said aloud, "Why don't you girls go home now. Please, Cathy, do come back and visit. I'm sure Mrs. Barlowe would not object to your wanting to see your brother."

The smooth face showed a polite smile, as if Cathy were to be a welcome guest if she chose to return.

"Yes, father, and I'm sure you'll show no inclination to wanting to help me. You can stay here and never come back as far as I am concerned." Eleanor did not bother to hide her irritation.

The girls went out the door together and got their horses. "What's going on here, Eleanor? Why is your father here? You're going to need him if my brother is determined to go on this insane quest for the holy grail of galleons. My brother owes me an explanation, and I'm not going to stop until I get one. And I don't know who that woman is, but I agree with your father, there's more to her than meets the eye, and I don't like Flint not telling me."

It was sunset before they reached town. Vane was outside Eleanor's, waiting. He helped Cathy down off her horse and handed the reins off to Eleanor.

"I should help Eleanor with the horses," she started to pull away, but he kept his grip on her.

"Eleanor can take care of them." He said, and Eleanor nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, Ellie," said Cathy, "It was a most interesting day."

"And where were you all this time. I couldn't find you." He looked at her, he clearly expected an answer.

"Vane, I was out to solve a mystery, only all what's happened is that mysteries have piled on top of mysteries. I've forgotten what an ass my brother can be. He has a new mistress, she looks like a planter's wife. And he's keeping Richard Guthrie there with him. I can't figure out what's going on—yet. It seems that I've missed quite a bit since I've been in Europe. He's up to something, and I'll bet it's no good. I don't like all these plots and intrigues, but then again, I should have remembered what it was like in Nassau."

Vane began to laugh. "You've spent two years plotting and intriguing to keep away from the Spanish, and you're complaining about Nassau? You're both sister and lover to two of the most dreaded pirates in the West Indies, you should have learned by now."

"Yes, I know," she murmured, "I just wanted my brother and ran into this. He doesn't treat me any better than he treats members of his crew."

"I treat you better, I treat you far better than him. Now, let's go back to your room and go to bed before I remember that I was mad when I couldn't find you."


	8. Chapter 6

**This is fucking up my timeline again, and I'm back in the tv story, but the scenes of Charles Vane, lying wasted and decrepit (All hail Zach McGowan who looks so good even when he looks bad!) made me want to put Cathy in there to try to help her man. I wanted to get this in before the next episode, before I have to re-write it.**

He'd lain there for a week, in a stupor of rum and opium. Never neat of habit, his tent was a mess, empty bottles of rum strewn around, the half full pipe of opium cast aside. Laying on his back, he stared up at the top of the tent as the opium took effect and he could pass back into a narcotic sleep.

Cathy had stayed away as long as she could. She'd kept to her rooms, hoping he could come to her, hoping he would not sink into a morass self-pity and do nothing. She missed the time they spent together, missed him in her bed.

She'd tried to be quietly encouraging, pushing him gently in the direction she wanted him to go. "You can get the Ranger back, "she told him," but if you don't try, you won't. Giving up won't help." He'd look at her and she'd shake her head. "I can't believe you won't even try."

"What can I do," he countered, "Eleanor has all but ruined me. I've lost most of my crew, they're afraid to ally with me because she's threatened to blockade anyone who sides with me."

"So fight back," she said fiercely, "Don't just give up, do something, do anything. Just don't do nothing." And that night, for the first time, she refused to stay with him, in spite of the look of pain on his face.

She waited almost a week. He had not come into town, had not tried to see her. At last she could no longer bear it. It was against her better judgment, but she would go to him. "This is going to do me no good," she thought, "but I can't stand it anymore."

Wandering through the little town of tents on the shore she smelled unwashed flesh and campfires, mingled with the smell of the jungle. "The dregs of humanity," she thought, "And I'm in love with one of the worst."

She came to the place where he kept his camp. Tentatively, she parted the tent flaps, and knelt beside him, looking at him with a mixture of pity and revulsion. His hair was dirty, he smelled, and worst of all he had pissed himself. What she saw repulsed her, but she put a hand on his forehead, then jerked it away—it was hot with fever. Carefully she looked around, found the bottle of rum and the opium pipe, though the opium was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't sure if he'd tucked into his pants pocket, but even if it was there, she dared not look. She took the pipe and the rum and stuffed them into a corner of his tent.

An idea came to her, and she ran to the market in town and purchased two bowls, two cups and a pot to boil water. Rags from the rag seller completed her purchases. Last of fall she went to an old Obeah woman whom she trusted and told her what she needed. The woman was dirty and smelled, but she pressed packet of herbs into her hands, telling her what each one was for and when to use it.

"Let me see your hand, child," the old voodoo said to her, "Let me read yer palm."

Catherine held out her hand, while the woman examined it. "Ye be facing great love and great sorrow," she said and shook her head, "Ye face a choice between love and duty. To save de one you love you gotta sacrifice t'other. If ya follows ya heart's desire, it will steer ye true, but you be weepin' all de same."

Catherine put a gold coin in her hand, then, on impulse, she put her arms around the woman and hugged her. She'd only told her what she already knew, but now she realized what she knew was true.

She packed her purchases in a basket, then grabbed a blanket from her bed. "Now you're stealing again," she told herself. She walked slowly down the beach, seeing the tents scattered around, ignoring the catcalls and blatant invitations. She dropped her purchases in front of his tent, then headed to the waterfall nearby, a beautiful place surrounded by palms and ferns, but she took no time to enjoy it. She filled a bowl with water from a pool at the base of the falls and wet one of the rags, and carried it back to where he lay, sprawled on his rug in a rum and opium stupor.

She sat back on her heels, reluctant to begin, not knowing what he'd do. She had no experience with opium or opium users. She knew what he like when he was drunk, was afraid of his violent strength if he used it on her. She knew how much remorse he'd feel if he hurt her, but he'd not feel anything if he was blacked out. She prepared herself to take the risk, though, because she could not bear to see him like this.

Lightly, gently, she began to bathe his forehead. Suddenly he grabbed her wrist in a painful grasp, but she held still, hoping he would let go. He held her tightly for a moment, then murmured "feels good" and released her. She rubbed her wrist, then began the process again. Switching to a new cloth, she began to gingerly dribble water into his mouth. She wanted to touch more than his face, but only dared to give her ministrations to his feverish forehead.

When he seemed to relax a little, she began to bathe wherever there was flesh she could reach. When the bowl was empty, she took the used cloths to the waterfall and rinsed them out in the cool waters at the base. She made her way carefully back to where he lay, hating the sight of him, and feeling helpless that she could not change things.

The demons that tormented him in in his opium-fueled dreams seemed to have gone away. Instead Cathy was sitting there crying, raining her tears on him, cooling his feverish body. "You're the only one who doesn't hurt me", he murmured. Eleanor could no longer torment him as long as Cathy was there. Even the mysterious man who kept appearing to him could not resist her strength. "My avenging angel", he whispered and wanted to wipe her tears away.

Cathy wished she could pull his pants off and get him washed off, get him clean of the filth that had accumulated on his wasted body. The cool water seemed to be soothing him, but he was still under the influence of the rum and opium. She intended to keep the rum bottle and the opium pipe where he could not reach. She looked at the herbs she'd purchased from the conjure wife. One pack of herbs would help remove the poisons from his body, and the others would help the headaches and nausea that were sure to come.

"Now, Cathy," she told herself, "Are you so arrogant as to think that you could succeed with this? You can't help him if he doesn't want to help himself." Maybe, she told herself, maybe. Maybe he can get better, but if he won't try, he won't succeed. He tells me how strong I am, that he never met a woman with a will and determination like mine—not even Eleanor Guthrie. What would he tell me right now? Not to give up. He would tell me to keep trying. He never lets me feel sorry for myself, so I won't. I'm going to bring him round."

She felt a prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck. She felt the presence of someone behind her and turned around to see Jack Rackham. "Trying to rescue him? Be the good woman? Your love is going to cure him?" He laughed an unpleasant laugh, thinking his words could break her.

She stood up and faced him. "You know nothing about me. Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm stupid. If he'll let me bring him out of this, I will. And if I were you, I would stay away from me, and him—he's promised me he'll let me kill you. And when," she emphasized the word, "Whe he gets the Ranger back, don't bother to come around. I don't want you on there, you've done enough damage. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to what I was doing. This is going to take time, and I won't have you wasting mine."

She resisted the urge to kick him as he walked away from. "You fucking jerk," she muttered, then turned away.

The cool rain was falling on him again, his face, chest, his arms. He were in the middle of the jungle and rain was falling from the skies and the trees and a cool liquid was falling into his mouth. She was standing at his feet, telling him, "Look what you've come to, Charles Vane, lying here soaked in your own piss. Wake the hell up, won't you? If you don't, you'll float away and you won't come back."

"What are you, some kind of witch? What kind of spell have you cast on me anyway?" he muttered. She bent down, "I'm the sea witch," she whispered, her luminous green eyes shining on him, and as she began to put her lips to his, she disappeared.

He was beginning to stir. Cathy held her breath and sat at his side, putting her fingers lightly on his forehead. Damn, he was better but he was still too hot. He was starting to come to consciousness and he might push her away, not let her help. She had to get hold of more opium so she could slowly bring him down. There was a battle coming, and she could not relent now, or he'd only get worse.

To hell with it, she thought, she was going to remove the piss soaked pants and bathe him. She didn't know what would happen, she was afraid he might grab her by the throat, but that was a chance she was going to take. Very carefully she pulled down the top of his trousers, hoping to remove them, forcing them down and off him, when her fears were realized.

His hand reached out and grabbed her throat. "Who are you" he said hoarsely. Resisting the urge to pull his hands away, she used her fist and brought it down hard on his solar plexus. He released her and doubled over, and began to retch, she put her hand on his forehead, and bathed his face when he was through.

His hand went up and touched her face. "Are you real?" he asked weakly. She took his hand, holding it tightly.

"I'm real, real as you can get. I'm going to try to get you through this."

"Why did you hit me in my stomach?" He was angry but the effort to do anything about it was too much.

"You didn't leave me much choice, you were choking me. I had to do something."

"Hmm. Give me the opium."

She looked for the pipe, hoping it wasn't empty. Fortunately, the pipe was a little less than half full. She helped him light it, and watched him inhale, then he gently pulled her down to his mouth, blew the smoke into hers. She inhaled, not wanting to, but held it for a moment, then blew it gently back into his mouth. This went on until she took the pipe from him and threw it across the tent, fell onto him, feeling a little dizzy, and went to sleep.

She was shivering in the middle of the night, though deep in an opium sleep. He tried to rise to find something put over her, but his head felt thick, and he was still too intoxicated to get up. He settled for trying to wrap around himself more closely.

He had almost fallen asleep when he felt the tip of a cutlass under his chin. He looked up and saw Flint standing over him. "Is that what you're going to do, drag her down with you? Let her become addicted to opium and rum because she's exhausted herself caring for you? You let me take your ship from you, what kind of man are you? You should be fighting me to take it back, but you're too much of a coward. I ought to cut your throat right now. The blade pressed lower, and lower, and soon would find its target.

But Cathy dressed in a white dress, her hair hanging loose and wreathed with flowers, threw herself across him. "You can't have him, I won't let you." She held out her hand and blew a powder that sparkled like gold at his face, and Flint dissolved into dust at her feet."

Vane sat up with a start, then lay back down as the effort made him dizzy. He threw up in the bowl Cathy had provided and then stumbled as he tried to stand up. He slowly made his way on unsteady feet out of the tent to the water's edge. He walked out, waist deep, into the water, then began to swim carefully, taking care to stay close to shore. The cool water revived him, and his head was at last beginning to clear.

He heard a splash behind him, and Cathy was suddenly at his side. "Oh no you don't, you'll drown. You're not strong enough.

He put his arm around her waist, letting her support him as he went deeper into the water. "Can you help me get the Ranger back, Cathy?"

"You have to get the Ranger back. Maybe I can help by reasoning with Flint. But you have to get stronger, get off the opium, and don't spend your days drunk."

"And what about Eleanor?"

"One obstacle at a time. Come back to bed, rest. I'll be here. I'll go and get some food tomorrow so you can eat and get stronger." She took his hand and began to swim for shore, pulling him with her. His mind felt the fogginess from the opium, but her hand held him tightly, anchoring him to the shore.

She put him to bed, crawling in next to him. From somewhere she managed to find the blanket and threw it over them both. For the first time in over a week, Vane slept, dreamless, the demons leaving him alone at last while Cathy slept, curled up in his arms.


	9. The Voyagers

**I didn't intend for this story to take the turn it did, but I started exploring the dark side of Cathy and Flint's relationship. After seeing him punch Eleanor in Episode I, I guess I should have known that this was coming.**

**I think this is being censored, so I don't know how many of you will see it. I'm having trouble getting it to appear. Wish me luck**

"Something's hurting me," thought Cathy. She lay there, confused, the opium Vane had forced on her fogging her brain, making it difficult to think clearly. "What can't I move?" she thought.

Then she realized heavy weight pinning her down turned out to be Vane's arm slung across her chest. Earlier in the night he'd held a tight grip on her, but now she was able to slide out from under his arm and escape from the bed—and the foul stench in the tent.

She looked and saw the bowl where he'd thrown up the night before, and gingerly took it and ran down to the ocean's edge and washed it out, scrubbing it with sand before dipping it into the water. Then, tucking it under her arm, she went to the waterfall and rinsed it, then plunged into the pool, rinsing off a traces of the night before, letting the cool water clear her head.

She wrung out her hair, letting it hang free. The last traces of cool air were disappearing, and soon would turn warm and her hair would dry into dozens of ringlets from the humidity. Looking to the horizon she could see that the sun was still low. She knew that soon it would be high in the sky, and the day would slowly turn hot. The whitening sky held no promise of a break from the heat, and if that was the case, Charles' hangover would put him in an evil mood.

It was only with great reluctance that she left the shady haven of the waterfall. On the way back she found three flat sided stones she could use for the kettle. Outside the tent she arranged the stones in a triangle with space enough for a small fire in the middle. She gathered twigs and tinder, then struck two stones together until they emitted a spark that set the palm fronds burning, and gradually added the twigs. She filled the kettle with water from the pool and when the fire was hot enough she set the pot on the stones and waited for the water to boil.

"What are you doing up?" She knew Vane was standing behind her and answered him without even turning around.

"Have you smelled your tent? Or you? Why don't you go bathe, it'll help clear your head. You're going to feel terrible, no matter what. I'm making you something will help your hangover. I need to go find you some food when the market opens, and ask Ruby Marie if you need anything else I didn't get yesterday."

She turned and looked at him, saw a familiar look in his eyes, and knew something was up. "You're going to leave, aren't you? Do you know when you'll be back?"

He sat down next to her and attempted to draw her into his arms, but she recoiled. "You smell really foul—can you please tell me what it is after you've bathed?"

He stood and slapped her playfully on the head. "If it's that bad, why did you put up with it last night?"

"You forced opium on me last night, I was too intoxicated to pay attention. I know you think it's funny, but I wish you wouldn't."

"Yes, I treat you so badly. I'll be back. It's getting warm, sun's coming up. I want to leave soon." He disappeared down the footpath to the waterfall.

She took the kettle from the fire and set it on the sand. She poured the contents of one packet into the water and let it settle. By the time he came back it would be ready. The potion would ease his headache but not hinder his ability to navigate. The other herb packets could be saved for another day.

The cup was ready when he returned. "What's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing I haven't given you before. It will make your head feel better. Don't be a baby, drink it. And don't worry, it tastes as bad as it smells."

He shook his head, but took the cup and drank the contents. A few minutes later, he ran into the bushes, which didn't surprise her. The magic of the potion was that it started working after it made you sick.

She took the cup from him. "If I go get food, will you promise to still be here when I get back? I know you don't feel like eating, but…"

"Yes, Cathy, I know. And I won't leave without saying goodbye, I promise. You'd probably have Ruby Marie send a wind to blow me back to you if I did. I don't know why you trust that old Obeah woman, she's known to be nothing but trouble."

"Only for those who cause trouble for her. She's always been good to me." Cathy pulled on her skirt and blouse, "She likes me, she looks out for me. It's like having a mother who actually cares about me instead of family ambition." She put her arms around his neck. "Please wait for me, I'm so afraid you won't." She picked up her basket and ran to the market where the vendors were beginning to set out their wares. She picked up rolls, oranges, and dried meat, all things that would keep while he sailed. She looked out over the harbor, and saw that his skiff was still there.

When she returned to his camp, he'd brewed strong black tea for them. He ate more than she thought he would, but he needed more—the week's binge had taken its toll. What they didn't eat, he wrapped up and put in his sea bag. Hand in hand, they wandered to where various crafts were docked, some in for repairs, others making ready to go out to sea.

He stopped and put his arms around her, kissed her and held her tight. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, Cathy, but I'll be back. Be patient, I love you, you left me behind once, but I won't do that to you." She nodded, tears in her eyes and mouthed the words "I love you". She went with him to the skiff, watched him row off until he disappeared from view. She stared out at the harbor, looking for the familiar lines of the Walrus with her fresh coat of red paint, and the Ranger. Nothing.

She stood for a moment, not believing what she saw, or what she didn't see. "Damn!" she thought and ran up to Eleanor's office.

"Where are they? When did they sail? Tell me Eleanor." She paid no attention to the figure sitting in the chair across from Eleanor's desk. She slapped her hand down hard on the desk. "When did they sail?"

Eleanor excused herself and took Cathy into another room. "What do you mean, just barging in here when I'm conducting business?"

Cathy put her hand around Eleanor's throat, enclosing it in a strong grip. Her fingers started to close and Eleanor was finding it harder and harder to breathe. She tried to tear Cathy's fingers away, but the hold she had on her was too strong.

She held up a hand in a gesture of surrender and Cathy let go. She stood, breathing hard, then when she'd caught her breath told her, "I'll get rid of him and we can talk."

Cathy remained where she was, watched Eleanor dismiss her customer and then gesture her into the room. She took a bottle of rum and filled two glasses, saying simply, "We're both going to need this."

"When did they sail, Eleanor?" Cathy asked again, then sat back and waited for her answer.

"Two days ago. Flint's spies notified him that the Urca had been spotted. They sailed with short rations, just enough to get them by."

"And where was he before that? I've tried to get information, but all I've heard is that the Andromache was in port and he went after her guns. And that the Andromache's disappeared, and when Flint came back he stayed only long enough to re-supply and leave. He's really set out on that fool's errand?"

"Not a fool's errand if he succeeds, and what do you call robbing the Spanish viceroy?" Eleanor countered.

"Child's play, and I had help from within. All it took was a few bribes and a little bit of legwork. I didn't have to face anyone's guns, and my gun would have found theirs first. I didn't get anyone killed, the risk was all mine. I have my success to justify me."

"So, why weren't you here when they sailed?" Eleanor quickly switched subjects. She'd heard rumors of a different sort, about Cathy and Vane.

Cathy emptied her glass of rum, poured another and looked at Eleanor. "I was nursing Vane out of a rum and opium binge." She held up her hand as Eleanor was about to speak. "Who says I would have been in any different shape, under the circumstances." She refilled her glass, "No, I've been in circumstances where that was tempting, but I didn't do it. The point is that I sobered him up. Almost got strangled for my troubles, but I cleaned him up. And now he's gone."

She stood up and looked out the window, then turned to Eleanor. "Did I ever tell you why I left? I don't think anyone knows the whole story. Vane pretends he doesn't, but I think he does. Oh yes, there's one other." She set her glass on Eleanor's desk. "I don't think I should drink this."

"You were part of it, you know. You'd started seeing Vane behind my back." Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, but Cathy cut her off. "Don't deny it, I saw the two of you on a couple of occasions. I never liked his skirting around behind my back, but I could deal with it better if he took care to hide it from me. I don't think he really wanted me to find out about you, but he got careless."

"I never confronted him, but I was furious. So furious that I seduced a young, blond haired, blue eyed pirate. Billy and Gates took me under their wing on the voyage from England, you know, tried to fill my mind with all sorts of horror stories about the evil ways of pirates. It was easy to turn to Billy when my heart felt so broken. I even kept seeing on seeing him—his sweetness was such a contrast to Charles. Alas, all good things seem to come to an end, and end they did."

"You know what Charles is like. The first time he hit me I told him my brother would kill him if I didn't do it first. After that he took a different strategy. He'd turn me over his knee and lift my skirt, and I'd know the battle was lost. And no matter how hard I'd try to not cry, I'd be in tears before he finished with me. And still I stayed with him. Damn him."

"Somehow he found out about me and Billy. That night he cornered me in my rooms and gave me a beating that was worse than all the times before. Billy slipped in afterwards and saw what he'd done. He wanted to kill him, but I talked him out of it. He helped me pack my trunk and gather up what money I had left. Charles must have been ashamed of what he did, because he didn't show up to check on me. Billy came back with some more money for me, and told me he'd found a ship for me. He put me on a ship to Havana, and promised to come and see me if he could."

Eleanor came over to Cathy and put her arm around her. "Charles told me what he did, Cathy. He made me swear not to tell anyone. He was never the same after you left. When he'd get really drunk he'd tell me that the best part of him had sailed away with you. He blamed himself for being a fool, that it was his own fault that you'd left him. And he didn't blame you, for anything. I never believe anything he says, especially when he's drunk, but I believe that he realized he'd made the biggest mistake of his life."

Cathy put her arms around her and started crying. "Damn that bastard," she whispered, "I've tried so hard to not love him but I never quite succeed. I could love someone decent like Billy Bones, or a privateer I met in Paris, but I came back to the biggest bastard, with the exception of my brother, that I know. And now I've got to sit and wait, and wonder if he's all right, not knowing where he is or when he'll return. How did we ever come to love such a son of a bitch, Eleanor?"

She picked up the glass she'd abandoned and drained it. "I'm going to find Charles' opium pipe. I'm feeling too much and I don't want to feel anything right now." She kissed Eleanor's cheek. "Don't worry about me, I don't."

Eleanor watched her leave, then summoned Scott. She put a purse of coins into his hands. "Ask around the docks and see if anyone knows where Charles went. I don't know where you should start, but someone has to know something." Scott bowed and left.


	10. Check to the White Queen

Cathy was having the dream again. The dream where she could hear, but not see, the gulls, the cannons firing, the splash of the water against ships' hulls, the cry of fighting, the cry of men in pain. It was all too real, too horrendous, too much to bear and she wanted it to stop, stop, stop now. She preferred death to this dream.

She sat up suddenly, shaking it off, but the terror, the horrible pounding and racing of her heart made it seem as if it would jump out of her chest. If that happened, what would she do? Would she try to put it back in, see if it still fit, or would she take her knife, stab it, hack it into little pieces, so she could finally stop the pain.

Charles had been gone for weeks. There had been no word, no clue, no idea as to where he was. He'd said he'd return but he didn't know when, and she had been left to wait and wait. Was this how he had felt when she had run away from him to take refuge in Havana? Had he felt this sorrowful, this alone, a void in his heart that nothing could fill but her return?

She got out of bed and wearing nothing but her sheer lawn nightgown and went onto the veranda and stared out towards the sea. Even in the wispy nightgown she was miserably hot, tonight there was no air, no breeze to offer relief from the overwhelming heat. Maybe she should take off her night gown and pour water over herself, but as the air dried the water she would only find herself suffering in the heat once more.

She wandered back into her room and found where she had hidden Charles' opium pipe. There was pitifully little left, just enough to give her relief this night from the dream and the heat. She lit the pipe and inhaled the way he had taught her—small breaths, don't waste the smoke. Thankfully there was more left than she'd expected, and she fell into a pleasant opium dream where there were no ships, no cannons, no battles and no Charles.

She slept until late in the day, but woke up with a pounding in her head from the opium that would not go away. She wanted to reach for the pipe, but then put aside. Being an addict, addicted to the poppy, was not what she wanted. She would survive the headache without it.

Someone was knocking at the door and she wished they would stop because it was aggravating the hammering inside her head. She opened the door to find Eleanor standing in front of her, holding a tray with hot tea, fruit, and bread.

"Cathy, you aren't even dressed!" she exclaimed. She went to the window and opened the shutters, letting in the hot air, but flooding the room with light. "You never sleep this late, even in the hot weather. Get dressed and eat your breakfast—do anything, just don't stay in a dark room all day in your shift. Max has been asking where you were, so I decided to bring your breakfast up to you."

Eleanor went to the cupboard and pulled out a pink sack gown. "Here, this will be cool enough for this weather. Come on, Cathy, would Charles want to see you like this?"

"I've had the nightmare again, Eleanor, I keep having it over and over. Something's coming, I can feel it, I don't know what it is, or who it is, but every night I dream about it. I don't feel safe here, I've never felt safe here, unless I knew that Charles was close. And now I don't even know where he is, I don't even know if he is alive, no one knows anything. My brother and the Ranger are out to sea and we've no word as to whether or not he's engaged the Urca de Lima yet."

Eleanor laid eyes on a familiar object sitting on a small table next to the bed. "Well, this certainly isn't going to help you. Did he introduce you to opium? He tried to get me to smoke it, but I refused, I thought you would have the good sense to do the same thing."

"It's the only thing that drives the nightmares away, the only way I can sleep dreamless at night. Don't worry, I've only been smoking out what he left in the bowl. Opium is wretched stuff, I have dreadful headaches the day after I smoke it, but when I wake up after having the nightmares, it feels like a godsend. Don't worry Eleanor, I'll see if Ruby Marie can fix up something for me, but if she can't find anything that works I will get more opium. I cannot live with these nightmares anymore. If I can't have Charles to chase them away, I'll take whatever I can get."

"Eat, Cathy, and when you're done give the tray to Max. And go swimming, play in the surf, anything, just don't smoke any more opium. I don't think Charles would be happy to see you as you are now." Eleanor started to close the door behind her, but stopped when Cathy said:

"Eleanor?" Eleanor turned around. "Which of us do you think Charles would choose? I mean, if you have your Spanish gold I think he may find himself wanting us both, and I don't think I could live with that."

Eleanor slammed the door behind her and hurried down the stairs to the brothel to find Max. Though their relationship had died long ago, she counted on Max for small favors, which, for a price, Max was generally willing to do. Hopefully Max would be willing to keep an eye on Cathy for a few days, because she didn't trust the way Cathy was behaving.

If only Charles… if only Charles what, she asked herself. Charles was not a free man. Even if she did gain her prize of Spanish gold, even if Charles did try to insinuate himself back into her life, there would still be Cathy. Cathy was the rock he anchored himself on. Cathy was the one who could soothe and calm him, the one he would listen to. Cathy had an emotional bond with him that she never could have. The one truth was that though Charles had long been her lover, Cathy was the love of his life.

No, I don't want him back, thought Eleanor, as much as I can be drawn to him, as much as he makes me feel so womanly and passionate in bed, I don't want him. And besides, he would never let go of Cathy, he might lie and cheat on us both, but he would never leave her. I don't want to step into that. I would never want to share, never be second, and lie though he might, that is all I would be.

The next morning Eleanor woke to the sound of thunder. Walking over to the window, she pushed open the shutters and saw that the day was clear, bright, and sunny. Suddenly she heard the rolling again, and realized it was not thunder but…

"Cannon fire! Cathy burst into the room, Max trailing behind her. "Cannons! Whose guns are those, I don't recognize them. They're not the Walrus, or the Ranger—who is it? The Scarborough is supposed to be moored at one of the islands, could they have put to sea and be trying to shell us?"

"I don't know, I don't recognize them either," Eleanor said slowly, "One of us should find Anne or Jack and see if they recognize them, or if they have any idea as to who might be shelling us."

At that moment Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny came into the room. "I don't suppose you have any idea as to who might be blessing us with their presence, do you?" Rackham said.

"Maybe someone who knows our weaknesses," Cathy moved closer to the window. Still the sound but no sight of them, she thought. "Ships with the sails furled, the fort unmanned or all but deserted. No guns in town and no one to man them if there were. No one to defend us, just a bunch of drunk pirates and townspeople who'll do nothing but cower behind their doors."

"Someone angry, bitter and reckless who figures he has nothing to lose." Anne Bonny spoke up.

"Vane," said Cathy.

"Vane," Anne agreed.

"I'm going upstairs to pack some stuff and get dressed. All of you would do well to do the same thing. We're in for a fight, and we don't know how it will go. Charles could come to protect us, or he might decide he doesn't care."

"He would care about you, Miss Cathy. Come with me, we pack a bag for you, then one for me. We get you breakfast, and try not to think about this right now, yes?" Max spoke for the first time since the shelling had begun.

Eleanor felt a pang of jealousy as Max took Cathy by the hand and led her out of the room. Like everyone else, Max waited on Cathy, because you wanted to take care of Cathy, protect her. Stop thinking like that, she told herself, don't be jealous of Cathy over Max. There's only one person Cathy loves, and like Max said, he'll protect her even if he tells all the rest of us to go to hell. Max won't snare Cathy no matter how hard she tries.

Rackham and Anne were arguing over whether or not it was Vane trying to shell the city. How did he get a ship, how did he get the men, did he intend to place Nassau under siege? Would the crews on their ships in the harbor be effective in battle, how many of the crew could return to man the guns. Was there even any point? What about the planters outside of town, would they be in danger, should they be warned? So many questions and no time really to prepare for what was coming.

Cathy and Max re-appeared, dressed and carrying bundles in their hands. Eleanor, too had dressed, and was standing on the balcony. "No sign of him, yet," she said softly, but all of them knew that soon the sails would appear on the horizon and reveal who had been firing their cannons so early in the morning.

"I got an idea," Max said suddenly, and took Cathy by the hand and led her back to her room. They did not appear right away and Eleanor wondered what was taking so long, until they re-appeared and she understood why.

Max had dressed Cathy in a magenta dress with a low cut bodice. She'd laced Cathy's waist far tighter than was her habit, with the result that not only was did her waist look smaller, but her breasts were pushed up higher. She had pinned up half of Cathy's hair on top of her head in loose, careless curls, and the rest hung down her back. To finish she had rouged Cathy's lips and cheeks with a soft pink color. The result was that Cathy looked soft and desirable, as well as seductive.

"Why Max?" Eleanor asked softly, and Max gave her an incredulous look, as if she wondered why she asked.

"If he sees her first, he may go easier on us for her sake. He hasn't seen her for, what, almost three months? Unless he don't love her no more, the sight of her looking so lovely may soften him. She's smart enough to know how to handle him. If she's soft and gentle and yielding, he'll remember how it feels to hold her in his arms, and he'll want her. Just look at her, I'd take her to bed myself right now if she'd let me. She may have to beg him for our lives, and it will go easier on all of us if she can make him desire her after all this time. She knows what he is, but she still loves him. Best hope he still loves her, too."

"Well, well," said Rackham, "I must say that I approve. He'll want her, oh yes, I can guarantee that. If she puts him in a good enough mood, he may even let me off the hook. I must say, though, I don't pity you Eleanor. If he makes it here before Flint does, I wouldn't put anything past him. I would not be surprised if he's engaged a ship before sailing into Nassau. He's letting us know just what he has. If the cannon fire hasn't served as sufficient warning, I'd suggest you get word to the captains to either prepare for a fight, or flee. He's going to try to capture Nassau, and it wouldn't surprise me if he succeeds."

"So, he's gotten a ship, maybe two, which is what he'd need. Then he managed to find a crew from somewhere to man the ships and the guns. And this crew is also experienced enough to know how to sack a city? How in the world could he have gotten a ship in the first place?" Cathy was trying to sound sarcastic, to spit venom at Rackham, but she realized that Charles could have pulled it off. And if it was him, Max had set her out as bait to try to save all of them. She was feeling like a sacrificial lamb and she didn't like it.

Anne Bonny joined them on the balcony. "We all know what he can do, he's very resourceful. It's too bad we don't know what he's planning, but no way of knowing that, now is there? Hopefully Jack and I can be taken back on as crew, and after he takes one look at you, Cathy, he'll want to bed you as soon as he can. He always was like that with you, just don't refuse him or talk back to him, and you'll be fine." She narrowed her eyes at Max and Eleanor, "As for you two, I don't know what he has in mind. I'd watch myself if I were you." She took Jack's spyglass and looked out to sea.

They sat through the afternoon, waiting for the signs of sails that did not appear. "What is he doing?" grumbled Anne, "Torturing us by making us wait? If he's not in by the next tide, I'd say that he's changed his mind, if it was ever him at all."

"Oh, I think it was him. That cannonade this morning was for the benefit of Eleanor and me. He's letting me know that he's coming for me, and he's letting Eleanor know he's come for Nassau. The queen is dead, long live the king." If you're going to come, come, Cathy wished, don't play games and don't make me suffer like this. I don't even know if you're still the man I love.

"You mean, the queen is dead, long live the king and new queen," said Eleanor without bitterness. I wish now that Flint had never left. I'd rather not have the Urca's gold if it means losing what I have."

"Don't talk like that, Eleanor. I don't want to be the new queen of Nassau. If I could take my treasure and board a ship now, I would," said Cathy, "But what if he's looking for me? I won't put anyone's life in danger. I won't. I'll do whatever he wants of me, as long as all of you are safe. Even you and Anne, Rackham."

He bowed in reply, and took another look through his spyglass. "I think you'll get to fulfill that, Cathy. I see a schooner and a brigantine coming in to port. If they anchor with their guns parallel to shore, I think we can guess who that is. I hope Nassau yields without firing a shot, that means you, Eleanor. I don't know if he intends to let his men raid the planters, but for now he may satisfy himself with having you yield. Live to fight another day, is my advice, for what it's worth."

"Come Cathy," Max took her hand and led her upstairs to her room. She undid her petticoat and removed it, then took off her bodice to relieve her of her corset and re-laced it. "We make it easy for him, it put him in a better mood, yes?" She pulled the pins out of Cathy's hair and the red curls spilled over her shoulders and down her hips.

"There, he see you, he gonna want you and want you now." She slipped her hand slyly up Cathy's skirt, and her fingers found what she was looking for. "Oh, you already wet, you want him so bad, don't you? Just wait, he'll give you what you want and more, much more, at least that's what we want." She kissed her quickly on the lips and took her back down to the others.

They watched the ships come sailing in, watched as they anchored and raised the gun ports. Then two jolly boats splashed into the water, and slowly rowed towards shore. "This is it", muttered Anne, "The moment of truth."

Eleanor grabbed Rackham's spyglass and saw Vane sitting in the prow of the boat, watching the small party on the balcony. "Get it over with, Vane," she prayed, "I can't stand this anymore."

The boat beached, and Vane jumped out, followed by three of his men, He strode purposefully to the staircase and mounted the stairs. Every eye was on him, he was thinner and it made him look more ruthless. People stepped out of the way as he made his way to where the group stood, waiting. And the first person he saw was Eleanor, holding onto Cathy's hand.

He held out a hand, "Cathy," he said, a command more than a request, but it was all she needed. She let go of Eleanor's hand and ran to him. He put his arm around her, holding her close.

"Don't you dare leave me again, you bastard," she whispered, "Or if you do, it better be a damn good reason."

He laughed and whispered something in her ear, but she looked at him and smiled.

Round one to the white queen, she thought.


	11. Artemis and Actaeon

Slowly, very slowly, so slowly it was almost reluctantly, Charles was lacing up Cathy's gown. He would straighten material with every tug of the lace, insisting on brushing aside—again—Cathy's mane of long hair. Every so often he would touch his lips to her silken back, warning her that if she were not careful, her dress would soon be lying on the floor from where she had just picked it up.

"I want to find my brother." The pronouncement startled Vane, who had been sure that with careful persuasion he could remove the dress and delay her departure back into town.

"What did you say?" he said, intending to break her concentration and put it back on him. "How would you do that? How would you find where he is?"

How indeed, Cathy thought. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "I thought about trying to find out if any of the newly arrived captains have heard of a sea battle off the coast of Florida. There hasn't been any news. Trying at Port Royal or Santa Domingo, wouldn't do any good, they're too far away. And I want to avoid the Royal Navy's ships on general principle, especially if they find out I'm Flint's sister. The only thing I can think of is to try to retrace his route."

She paused a moment, "I was thinking about hiring a fishing boat. I could bargain them down to a fair price, I think, especially if I pay ahead of time. Half to get me there, half to get me home. After that storm, I don't know what's happened to Flint, but even the Walrus might not have survived. And if there was a battle? Maybe both ships are gone, which would mean they're stranded. If only one ship has survived that means they have to take on the treasure and the full compliment of men. Anyway, he's my brother, and I want to know he's all right."

Unbeknownst to her, the laces were being slowly undone. "The fishing boats here are too small—they only fish off shore. You'd need something bigger. Wherever he is, it's probably a few days' sail, and a small fisherman's boat or skiff won't do. It's better if you let me do this for you," said Vane, having completed his task. Now he was sliding the dress off her shoulders. "I don't want you out there all alone. It's dangerous, and if I hear you went out looking for him I'll..."

"Yes," she interrupted, "I know what you'll do, nothing you haven't done before. I can take care of myself, thank you. I eluded the Spanish, remember? And they still haven't found me. And besides, I know you won't help, I'll be lucky if you let me leave, even luckier if you agree to help me find Flint." She turned to face him, "If it were Eleanor you wouldn't even be objecting, would you? Why you see me as helpless I will never know. My brother doesn't even…"

But she did not get to finish her sentence. He silenced her lips with his while he untied her petticoat and slid it over her hips. He cupped her breast and slid his hand down to her belly as he caressed her neck with his lips.

She turned around and began to undo the buttons on his shirt whispering, "Just for once could you just ask me first?" She pulled his trousers open and slid them to the floor. He kicked them off and carried her back to his bed to begin where he'd left off.

Later, much later, she walked down the hill, painfully aware that he'd tied her laces too tight, something he did when he wasn't happy with her. She was sweet and compliant when it suited her, but after all these years, he should know better. Why she was in love with one of the worst scoundrels in Nassau was beyond her. She had more sense, but with Charles you found something worthwhile if you scratched beyond the surface. All you needed to do was close your eyes to the rest.

When she reached town she went straight to the brothel and knocked on the door. Max answered, a smile spreading across her face as she laid eyes on Cathy.

"Don't tell me, let me guess—a bath after a long and strenuous night with Vane, yes?" She took Cathy's arm and pulled her indoors. "Don't worry, I have just what you need. " She led her to a small room with a stone floor that contained a large wooden tub. "You just wait and have some café, yes?"

She turned Cathy around and began to undo the lacing on her dress. "What do he think he doing, lacing you up so tight? It's like he's leaving his mark 'Vane was here.' I swear, if he could tattoo 'Property of Charles Vane' on you he would. And I never imagined that man would be jealous."

Cathy watched as servants brought in buckets of water and poured them into the tub. "Oh, he's jealous all right, even though he won't admit it. I'm strictly hands off, Eleanor is too. He can't make up his mind between the two of us, so he won't. It's easier for me to look the other way when it comes to her, I've more experience of men than she'll ever have. And somehow we stay friends in spite of him. I'm the one more likely to leave than she is, and for that reason he works harder to keep me, and not take me for granted. He knows damn good and well that if I left him once, I'll do it again."

She soaked for an hour, then Max laced her into one of her own gowns. Cathy promised to return the dress, then she kissed Max goodbye, Max lingering the touch of her lips for too long, as usual. She wandered to Eleanor's offices, and when she was sure Eleanor was alone she wandered into her office and stood by the window and smiled.

"You look terrible," Eleanor giggled, "How much rest have you had?"

"Rest, some; sleep, almost none. He's going to have to learn that when I say I need to sleep, that is exactly what I mean. I swear that man can live on next to no sleep for days, and then he sleeps round the clock and is ready to go again."

"And I bet you mean ready for anything. Well," she held up a bottle and a teacup, "Which shall it be, rum or tea or both?"

"Tea, strong black tea. I'll still sleep this afternoon—maybe I'll start doing siesta like I did in Havana. It might not be a bad idea." She turned and stared out the window, and something she had not seen before caught her eye.

"Eleanor, give me your spyglass." She took it from her, and peered intently through it, "You must see this," she said and handed it to her.

A huge galleon, like a leviathan, was entering the harbor. Cathy came over to Eleanor's side, "Looks more like a Spaniard, doesn't it? The pirates here prefer schooners and brigantines, they're easier to maneuver. Who would choose an unwieldy ship like that? I wonder if they've seen it up at the fort. I don't recognize her, do you? Who do you think she might belong to?"

They watched as the behemoth hove to, and boats began to be lowered. Eleanor looked again through the glass and saw a tiny figure in the prow of the lead boat. Perched on its head, visible even through the tiny spyglass, was a garish red hat. Eleanor handed it to Cathy and she burst out in laughter.

"If she's the captain, she's going to give women captains a bad name. I just wish Flint were here," she said, "I'd love to see the look on his face."

"Behave yourself Cathy, besides you're not the one who has to deal with her, if she is the captain. Whoever and whatever, I hope they have a good haul they're willing to sell—I could use the money, I've got payoffs to make. You can be as nasty as you like, but I've got to play nice."

"Well, you go play nice while I hide out until tonight, besides, I've got to return Max's gown. I'm going to have a good meal and a long siesta, and come out with the twilight like a bat. Perhaps I'll see you at the tavern tonight."

Eleanor sat down in her desk chair, staring out the window. She and Cathy both came from merchant families. Neither was gentry, but that was no bar to advancement in a society where the nobility had become impoverished while the merchant class flourished.

Cathy had had the same formidable education as her brother. She was fluent in four languages, and could converse easily in any. She'd been admitted to the most prestigious salons in Paris, and had met many literary and political figures. She had been presented at the French court and young Louis' regents had ogled the young Englishwoman with the auburn hair, making it plain that if she chose to stay in France, not one but several offers were pending. She'd never have to worry about money again in her life.

"How do you do it?" Eleanor had asked her once, "How do you go through life so absolutely certain that things will go your way? You're never jealous when Charles strays and as you predict, he always comes back. You left Nassau with very little and you come back with a fortune that will last you for life. No one has that kind of luck, yet you seem to."

"Eleanor, I refuse to entertain the thought that things will go wrong. And I'm not reckless, I'm deliberate. I take into consideration the odds of success, and I follow my instincts. I could have married a nobleman, enriched his coffers, and bore his children. I didn't want that. I gambled on Flint coming to get me, I gambled on being able to rob my parents, and then I gambled again when Charles—did what he did, and I left. I believe in myself, as you must, otherwise you wouldn't have backed Flint."

"True enough, Cathy," Eleanor said out loud, "And I bet you will take care of our little interloper. Just don't scare her too much or I may not be able to purchase her prize."

"No worries," Cathy replied, reciting the motto of the island, "I'm going to eat, then I plan on sleeping for hours. Don't look for me until it's well past twilight. It will be nice to be able to sleep without someone waking me up for a change." She turned and went up the stairs to her rooms.

She was dreaming pleasant dreams of drowning the galleon's captain when first knocking, then pounding at her door woke her from a deep sleep. She answered the door, dressed only in her white lawn shift, and saw Max and Eleanor standing at the threshold.

She motioned them in, "What are the two of you doing here? It's barely dark and I'd planned on sleeping a little bit more." She looked over at her clock and saw how wrong she was.

"Come on Cathy," Eleanor spoke up, "There's something going on at the tavern—the little blond captain is there, and she's all over Charles, who, of course, is not discouraging her. Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Of course I'm going to. I suppose the two of you are here to help me?"

"But of course, we've here to get you ready," Max jumped in, "I'm going to put you in your best dress and by the time I'm done Charles will forget all about her. She may be younger than you, but what you have she'll never possess. Where's your dress? Max is gonna work her magic on you, you just wait and see."

Cathy drew a bundle from her wardrobe. The rose silk dress was wrapped in waxed silk to preserve it. She pulled it out, the fabric shimmering even in the candlelight. It had only been worn once, but not for Charles. She closed her eyes, remembering the French privateer who had admired it—then quickly removed it.

Meanwhile, Max anointed her hair with coconut oil and brushed it until it shown. She pulled up Cathy's long heavy locks into a chignon at the back of her head, letting little curls tumble down her back. Max tied the petticoat and skirt around her waist, then laced the bodice loosely, pulling it down to display even more of Cathy's breast.

She slid her hand up the bodice, "See," Max said, "Let him play a little while she watches, which I guarantee you he will. Give him a good look at what he's buying so he'll not be a fool and let you go. Just remember that whatever she has, she's no match for you—you're the most beautiful woman in Nassau and Charles knows it. As soon as you walk into that tavern he won't be able to take his eyes off you, no one will."

Cathy put on her jasmine perfume, and fastened a gold and diamond necklace from her haul around her neck. Max rimmed her eyes with kohl, then dabbed rouge on her lips and cheeks, and led her to the full length mirror to let her look at herself.

A stranger stared back at her, a stranger she had not seen since, well, Paris. "Damn girl, I could eat you up right now," Max said, putting her chin on Cathy's shoulder and her arms around her waist. "I've never seen you like this, you could be the most successful whore in the islands if you wanted to. Men would pay a high price for you, wouldn't they Eleanor?"

"That's not a nice thing to say, Max, but I think you're right. Cathy, I can't wait for Charles to see you." Eleanor would have given anything to see what happened when the little blond captain came face to face with Cathy. Seeing the look on Charles face would be worth it, too. "I want a report, tomorrow, Cathy, all the juicy details, and don't you dare leave anything out!"

Cathy doubted that she would have been able to walk into the inn if it hadn't been for Jack Rackham. He happened to be wandering out, unpleasantly drunk by the look on his face, as she was walking in.

"Well Artemis," he said, "Are you here to blind Actaeon and throw her to the hounds to be torn apart?" His smile showed anything but good will.

She patted him on the cheek, the last pat more of a slap. "Not until I've taken care of you, my dear, but that's for another day. Now, if you don't mind, I have business to take care of." Her dress rustled as she swept past him, blowing him a sarcastic kiss.

She could hear the sound of glasses clinking and male laughter as she entered the tavern. She paused, hesitating for a moment before she entered, seeing for herself the little blond captain practically draping herself over Charles. Not for long, my dear, she thought, that's my man you're trying to steal. Then she walked into the candlelight.

Every man looked up, every man could smell her jasmine perfume as she approached the table. Cries of "Cathy" went up, and they jostled to find her a seat, and get her a glass of rum. She stood at the edge of the table and picked up someone's glass of rum and drained it, so everyone there could take in the sight of her deep décolletage.

She stood at the table, talking and laughing, bathed in the glow of the candles, while Vane sat and glowered when she put her hand on Captain Hornigold's shoulder and laughed at some inconsequential thing he said.

"Actaeon," she thought to herself, "I will strike you blind, or blind Charles to your presence. He's my man and not for your taking, he just needs to be reminded. She looked at Charles and caught his eye, then gave him a little secretive smile. He looked her up and down, looking at her dress, then looking at her like he'd like to remove it.

He withdrew his arm from where it had been resting on the little captain's shoulder as if she'd only been an afterthought. He looked at Cathy and crooked his finger at her, gesturing her to his side, but she raised her eyebrows. Oh no, I'm not that easy, I think, and was going to walk away until she saw him hold out his hand to her. I'm weak, she thought, I'm weak, and I should walk away but both of us know I won't. I can't.

By habit she came to him and he lifted her up by her slender waist and set her on her lap. "I forgive you, this time," she whispered to him, "but don't count on it for next time." She leaned over the table so he could get a glimpse of her cleavage and picked up the bottle of rum, taking a drink from it before filling his glass. She looked over at Actaeon who looked hurt and confused and felt a little sorry for her, but only a little.

Charles drained his glass, then set Cathy on her feet and stood up. "Well, gents, this is it for tonight for me, it's time I took my woman to bed." Cathy tried to slap him, but he held her arms and she smiled tolerantly as occupants of the table laughed. Evidently there was going to be a price for this victory, and she would be the one who paid it.

They left the tavern, arm in arm, and Charles suddenly shoved her down a dark corridor. He shoved her against the wall, and pulling down her bodice, kissed the tops of her breasts and then her mouth and began ruching up the hem of her gown until he could feel the smooth skin of her thigh. Suddenly she felt him inching up the front of her gown and she tried to grab his hand to stop him before it would be too late for both of them.

"No Vane," she said, trying to sound like she meant it, "Not here. Stop." She tried to push him away even though she knew she could not match his strength.

The hand under her skirt was growing bolder. "Yes, here. Here and now." He paused for a moment, then said, "Here and now, or I take you up to your room and remove your pretty Paris gown and turn you over my knee." Both knew what that meant.

She thought for a moment, "You help me find Flint, then yes to the second and I'll even behave myself."

His answer was to drop her skirt and slip an arm around her waist. "And I'm going to do with you whatever I like," he warned and she smiled.

They came out of the corridor and disappeared up the stairs to her rooms. Actaeon emerged from the shadows where she'd been hiding and looked up towards the door where they'd disappeared.

"Good evening, cherie," Max appeared, smoking a long thin cigarette. "I see you've met our Cathy, it is too bad for you that she does not let Charles stray—very often, that is. Evidently this was not one of those times."

"Are they always like that?" Actaeon could not help asking the question.

"Oh yes, always or at least frequently. He wants her wild, reckless, and willing and so she is. She's his partner in every way and he knows that. There's not a man in Nassau who would not have her, so he's always on his guard. There are many beautiful women in Nassau, but there is only one Cathy and she's his and no one else's and he intends to keep it that way. No matter how beautiful you are, cherie, you don't stand a chance." She stubbed out her cigarette and went back into the brothel, leaving Actaeon to ponder her words.


	12. The Searchers Part 1

First light. Sun was coming in through the cracks in the shutters, and out of habit Vane was immediately awake.

He turned on his side seeing Cathy, sleeping peacefully as a child, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. There were shadows, too, under her eyes that somehow did not detract from her looks. Cathy could look beautiful under circumstances that might drain the looks out of another woman.

He kissed the top of her head, and stroked her hair, tucked the locks crossing her face behind her ears. He should have been sorry that he used her so shamefully the night before, but he wasn't. He'd enjoyed every minute and he'd gladly do it again. It would not have been easy, but if she had truly wanted to, she could have stopped him. True, he would not have been agreeable, but she knew how to handle him and had proved it in the past. That's on of the things he loved about her, that tremendous will and her ability to say no to him or anyone.

"Cathy," he said softly, "I know you can hear me. That little display you put on last night wasn't necessary, but I loved seeing it. Sometimes I forget just how beautiful you are, and I've never gotten to see the Cathy you showed me. I don't have to see you like that to know how lovely you are, how lucky I am to have you. You never cease to surprise me and I never expected that of you."

He pulled the last of the pins from her hair, and kissed the glossy auburn curls, then he slide carefully out of bed and got dressed. He slipped out the door reluctantly, taking one last look at her, then carefully latched the door shut.

"I love you too, Vane," she said softly, then turned over and went back to sleep until was well past noon.

When she woke, the hands on the little porcelain clock showed that it was late morning. She picked up the key and wound it, then put her hands to her hair and realized that he had pulled out the pins. She picked up her brush and tried to untangle it, but the silky locks were stubborn and resisted her efforts to put them in a semblance of order. She pulled on a skirt and blouse and ran barefoot to the brothel, calling frantically for Max, hoping that she could obtain a bath and wash her hair.

Max must have been waiting for her. "I expected your hours ago," she said as she supervised the hot water being added to warm the bath. She turned Cathy's face gently, seeing the violet shadows under her eyes, the bruised lips. She turned her around and began to unlace her and remove her skirt, and Cathy heard her sharp intake of breath.

"What did he do to you?" She inspected the bruises between her waist and knees, the outline of a handprint showing in places.

"I know it looks bad …" Cathy began, but Max cut her off.

"What did he do to you? It not only looks bad, it is bad. What is this, Cathy?" There was more than concern on Max's face, there was anger, but Cathy was not sure at whom it was directed.

"It's not what you think, it's more like a game we play—one we play a little too well sometimes. Don't worry, I'm a willing participant, I wasn't forced. Do I understand why we do this, no." She closed her eyes, re-living the night before for just a brief moment. "I don't even remember how we started, but _we_, not just him, we enjoy it."

Max shook her head, "If someone wanted to do this to one of my whores, they'd pay dearly for the privilege, you watch yourself, Cathy."

"Oh, I do, and he knows the meaning of no more. If he doesn't behave himself, he doesn't get to play."

Max shook her head, clearly not convinced. When Cathy finished her bath, Max wrapped her in the bath sheet to dry, then smacked her on her bottom, as if to make a point.

"Even Vane would have the decency to not do that so soon," Cathy said mischievously.

Max threw up her hands as if to say, "I'm done with you."

Cathy finished dressing and went directly to Eleanor's. She saw her standing in front of the window, watching. Cathy stood next to her and put her arm around her.

"Watching won't make him arrive any faster, Eleanor. I want to go find him, what do you think?"

Eleanor turned around, "You might talk to Captain Hornigold and ask him what he thinks. He'll know if we should try to find him, or not. I don't know what you'll do about Charles, maybe you can talk him into helping you."

Cathy shook her head, "He seems dead set against it. He says he'll help, yet he'll do nothing. Now that he won't have a share of the Spanish treasure, he won't care. I'll try, though. Vane's said he'll help me more than once. It's time I held him to it, after all, I paid for it. I just don't want to go off on my own without telling him-yet."

Someone cleared their throat, "Excuse me," said a female voice, "I was told I could find Eleanor Guthrie here."

They turned to find the little blond captain standing in the doorway. She looked at Cathy, looked again, then her face turned white under its tan. She looked hesitant, as if she did not know if she should leave or stay, her look clearly wishing Cathy into the deepest hole in the ocean.

Eleanor stepped forward and shook her hand. "I'm Eleanor Guthrie. This is Kathy Flint, sister to James Flint of the Walrus. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Theodora Sutter, of the Virago. I'm told that you are the best agent when it comes to selling merchandise. People speak of you very highly."

Up close Theodora was lovely. Her hair was a light golden brown that stopped short of being blond. Her eyes were a light amber brown, with thick lashes and brows. "She's half Turk, if I'm not mistaken," thought Cathy, her bone structure seemed more Arab, in spite of her German or Dutch surname. The European was there, but subdued by the Moor.

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to your business, I have my own to take care of." Cathy did not add the nicety of saying it was a pleasure to meet her, both knew where they stood.

Captain Hornigold had set up an office of sorts for himself in the inn. The room was large enough to accommodate both bed and desk, and he had a veranda where he could watch the ships in port and see the comings and goings of Eleanor's customers. He had not forgiven Eleanor or Vane for forcing him out of the consortium, but it would not be hard to buy himself a position. Realistically he knew that Vane had forced this on her. He had not expected for Vane to take over the fort, or fire on ships in the harbor, but it did not surprise him.

Nor did it surprise him to see Cathy knocking at his door. A visit from Cathy could light up anyone's day. He invited her in and poured a glass of rum and one for himself.

He was old and canny enough to have developed the talent to read people's faces. He also could put on a comforting manner when he chose, so he reached over and patted her knee, and asked the question she wanted to hear.

"What can this old salt do for you, Miss Cathy?" His smile clearly said, come on, you can tell me, you know you can trust me.

Which was why she was there. "Flint has not returned, and I'm worried. I have no idea how long it took to sail to their destination, I don't know how much fighting they faced, and I don't know how they fared during the storm. I don't even know if both ships survived, or if they're lying at the bottom of the ocean. In short, I'm anxious to find out anything I can.

"They could be gathering the cargo together, or they could be stranded on the beach. I'm worried, Captain Hornigold, and I'd like to know they're all right. And I'd like to know if Flint got his Spanish gold. They may be doing fine, but they may need help. And if they need help, there is no way of getting word to us. Captain Hornigold, what can I do?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Cathy, I know what you're asking. I don't think there's any captain with a ship moored in the harbor that would be willing to help you. They have their own interests to look after. It would take time to get my ship fitted to make the voyage, if I were willing, which I am inclined not to be." He held up his hand as she started to object, "There are many inlets and places where the Spaniard would have headed to take on water. We could spend days searching before we even got close. It's best to wait for your brother to return home, I know you don't like to hear this, but it's the course of action I recommend."

She thanked him for his time, and cursed under her breath as she left his office. "Old woman, you've grown too soft. You should find a woman and raise a bunch of brats because that's all you're good for now. No wonder you're so angry at losing your precious fort, you're disinclined to do anything that requires action, you bastard."

She stomped into Eleanor's office and slammed the door behind her, saying, "God damn old men and their soft life. That bastard has a ship, he could help me. There'd be no taking on any risk, he's just too damn lazy. What if Flint and his crew are in danger, or stranded, or need help. Do they even have a ship left? "

"So what did he tell you?" Eleanor spoke cautiously, Cathy, like her brother, was prone to lash out if provoked. The Flint temper was legendary, she had once told her.

"He told me no, politely and with many excuses and rationalizations, but the ultimate answer was no. I have no idea how to do this. I grew up around ships, brigs, barks, schooner, man-o-wars, but I know nothing about anything else. So I'm left where I was before, unless my _lover_," she emphasized the word, "Decides that he will graciously help me, whatever his inclination. And speaking of lover, what happened with the little captain?"

"We came to an agreement. She wasn't happy with the terms, but she seems confident that she can build upon it and improve them. She can take her cargo to Port Royal for all I care, though I could use the money. By the way, she asked me about you and Charles." Eleanor's lips curled as she waited eagerly for Cathy's reaction.

"Hmmm," Cathy sat back in her chair and smiled, "I must have made quite an impression on her."

"Oh, I can assure you that you did," Eleanor rose and poured two glasses of rum. She handed one to Cathy, "She must be used to having success with men, you caught her quite off guard. She didn't expect you or what followed. I told her the truth: that you were lovers of long standing and Charles quite doted on you. I also told her that Charles would gladly kill anyone who even tried to touch you, that he was jealous of you beyond reason, which left her quite speechless. The expression on her face was delightful."

Cathy laughed, "So of course you didn't tell her about you, though you and Charles seemed to have grown more distant over time. He's still quite fond of you, he probably always will be, and I'm quite fond of you myself."

Eleanor put her arms around Cathy's waist. "And I'm rather fond of you. Now, since Captain Hornigold has turned you down, which I hoped that he wouldn't, who are we going to get to help us. Cathy, I've waited long enough for Flint, I too, worried for his safety. The Walrus has managed its share of storms, so too has the Ranger, but any ship can be destroyed, no matter how good her seamen. That storm was a ship killer, I want to find out if Flint and his men are all right. So who do you think we could turn to? Who would be willing to search the coast of Florida for us?"

"What about me?" came a voice from behind them.


End file.
